“Who can that be?” said Oswald.

“Who should it be,” said Edmund, “but that good Sir Philip Harclay, the chosen friend of him, whom I shall from henceforward call my father.”

“’Tis true indeed,” said Oswald; “and this is a fresh proof of what I before observed, that Heaven assists you, and will complete its own work.”

“I think so myself,” said Edmund, “and rely upon its direction.  I have already determined on my future conduct, which I will communicate to you.  My first step shall be to leave the castle; my lord has this day given me a horse, upon which I purpose to set out this very night, without the knowledge of any of the family.  I will go to Sir Philip Harclay; I will throw myself at his feet, relate my strange story, and implore his protection; With him I will consult on the most proper way of bringing this murderer to public justice; and I will be guided by his advice and direction in everything.”

“Nothing can be better,” said Oswald, “than what you propose; but give me leave to offer an addition to your scheme.  You shall set off in the dead of night, as you intend; Joseph and I, will favour your departure in such a manner as to throw a mystery over the circumstances of it.  Your disappearing at such a time from the haunted apartment will terrify and confound all the family; they will puzzle themselves in vain to account for it, and they will be afraid to pry into the secrets of that place.”

“You say well, and I approve your addition,” replied Edmund.  “Suppose, likewise, there was a letter written in a mysterious manner, and dropt in my lord’s way, or sent to him afterwards; it would forward our design, and frighten them away from that apartment.”  “That shall be my care,” said Oswald; “and I will warrant you that they will not find themselves disposed to inhabit it presently.”

“But how shall I leave my dear friend Mr. William, without a word of notice of this separation?”

“I have thought of that too,” said Oswald; “and I will so manage, as to acquaint him with it in such a manner as he shall think out of the common course of things, and which shall make him wonder and be silent.”

“How will you do that,” said Edmund?

“I will tell you hereafter,” said Oswald; “for here comes old Joseph to meet us.”

He came, indeed, as fast as his age would permit him.  As soon as he was within hearing, he asked them what news?  They related all that had passed at Twyford’s cottage; he heard them with the greatest eagerness of attention, and as soon as they came to the great event, “I knew it!  I knew it!” exclaimed Joseph; “I was sure it would prove so!  Thank God for it!  But I will be the first to acknowledge my young lord, and I will live and die his faithful servant!” Here Joseph attempted to kneel to him, but Edmund prevented him with a warm embrace.

“My friend! my dear friend!” said he, “I cannot suffer a man of your age to kneel to me; are you not one of my best and truest friends?  I will ever remember your disinterested affection for me; and if heaven restores me to my rights, it shall be one of my first cares to render your old age easy and happy.”  Joseph wept over him, and it was some time before he could utter a word.