“’Tis no matter,” answered he; “thoughts are free.”

“My opinion of you, Sir,” said Oswald, “is not founded upon thoughts—­ I judge of men by their actions,—­ a rule, I believe, it will not suit you to be tried by.”

“None of your insolent admonitions, father!” returned Wenlock; “this is neither the time nor the place for them.”

“That is truer than you are aware of, sir; I meant not to enter into the subject just now.”

“Be silent,” said my Lord.

“I shall enter into this subject with you hereafter—­then look you be prepared for it.  In the mean time, do you, Dick Wenlock, answer to my questions:—­Do you think Edmund is concealed in this apartment?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you think there is any mystery in it?”

“No, my lord.”

“Is it haunted, think you?”

“No, I think not.”

“Should you be afraid to try?”

“In what manner, my lord?”

“Why, you have shewn your wit upon the subject, and I mean to show your courage;—­you, and Jack Markham your confident, shall sleep here three nights, as Edmund has done before.”

“Sir,” said Sir Robert, “for what purpose?  I should be glad to understand why.”

“I have my reasons, sir, as well as your kinsmen there.  No reply, Sirs!  I insist upon being obeyed in this point.  Joseph, let the beds be well aired, and every thing made agreeable to the gentlemen; If there is any contrivance to impose upon me, they, I am sure, will have pleasure in detecting it; and, if not, I shall obtain my end in making these rooms habitable.  Oswald, come with me; and the rest may go where they list till dinner-time.

The Baron went with Oswald into the parlour.

“Now tell me, father,” said he, “do you disapprove what I have done?”

“Quite the contrary, my lord,” said he; “I entirely approve it.”

“But you do not know all my reasons for it.  Yesterday Edmund’s behaviour was different from what I have ever seen it—­he is naturally frank and open in all his ways; but he was then silent, thoughtful, absent; he sighed deeply, and once I saw tears stand in his eyes.  Now, I do suspect there is something uncommon in that apartment—­that Edmund has discovered the secret; and, fearing to disclose it, he is fled away from the house.  As to this letter, perhaps he may have written it to hint that there is more than he dares reveal; I tremble at the hints contained in it, though I shall appear to make light of it.  But I and mine are innocent; and if Heaven discloses the guilt of others, I ought to adore and submit to its decrees.”

“That is prudently and piously resolved, my lord; let us do our duty, and leave events to Heaven.”

“But, father, I have a further view in obliging my kinsmen to sleep there:—­if any thing should appear to them, it is better that it should only be known to my own family; if there is nothing in it, I shall put to the proof the courage and veracity of my two kinsmen, of whom I think very indifferently.  I mean shortly to enquire into many things I have heard lately to their disadvantage; and, if I find them guilty, they shall not escape with impunity.”