promised to conduct him through the wild and overgrown park in which the
mansion of Foster was situated. Haste and distress of mind led his steps
astray, and instead of taking the avenue which led towards the village,
he chose another, which, after he had pursued it for some time with a
hasty and reckless step, conducted him to the other side of the demesne,
where a postern door opened through the wall, and led into the open
country.

Tressilian paused an instant. It was indifferent to him by what road he
left a spot now so odious to his recollections; but it was probable
that the postern door was locked, and his retreat by that pass rendered
impossible.

"I must make the attempt, however," he said to himself; "the only means
of reclaiming this lost--this miserable--this still most lovely and most
unhappy girl, must rest in her father's appeal to the broken laws of his
country. I must haste to apprise him of this heartrending intelligence."

As Tressilian, thus conversing with himself, approached to try some
means of opening the door, or climbing over it, he perceived there was
a key put into the lock from the outside. It turned round, the bolt
revolved, and a cavalier, who entered, muffled in his riding-cloak, and
wearing a slouched hat with a drooping feather, stood at once within
four yards of him who was desirous of going out. They exclaimed at
once, in tones of resentment and surprise, the one "Varney!" the other
"Tressilian!"

"What make you here?" was the stern question put by the stranger to
Tressilian, when the moment of surprise was past--"what make you here,
where your presence is neither expected nor desired?"