was intolerable. It roused her to the intensest indignation. She was the
lady of Dalton Hall; these who thus dared to restrain her were her
subordinates. This Wiggins was not only her inferior, but he had been
the enemy of her life. Could she submit to fresh indignities or wrongs
at the hands of one who had already done so much evil to her and hers?
She could not.

That white old man with his mystery, his awful eyes, his venerable face,
his unfathomable expression, and the weird old woman, his associate,
with her indescribable look and her air of watchfulness, were both
partners in this crime of unlawful imprisonment. They dared to put
restrictions upon the movements of their mistress, the lady of Dalton
Hall. Such an attempt could only be the sign of a desperate mind, and
the villainy of their plan was of itself enough to sink them deep in
Edith's thoughts down to an abyss of contempt and indignation. This
indignation roused her, and her eagerness to see Miss Plympton impelled
her to action. Animated by such feelings and motives, she delayed no
longer, but at once returned to the Hall to see Wiggins himself.

On her way back she was conscious of the fact that Hugo was following;
but she took no notice of it, as it was but the sequel to the preceding
events of the day. She entered the Hall, and finding Mrs. Dunbar, told
her to tell Wiggins that she wished to see him. After this she went down
to the dreary drawing-room, where she awaited the coming of her jailer.

The room was unchanged from what it had been on the preceding day. By
this time also Edith had noticed that there were no servants about
except Hugo. The drear desolation of the vast Hall seemed drearier from
the few inmates who dwelt there, and the solitude of the place made
it still more intolerable.