After some time Wiggins made his appearance. He came in slowly, with
his eyes fixed upon Edith, and the same expression upon his face which
she had noticed before. A most singular man he was, whoever or whatever
he might be. That hoary head and that venerable face might have awed her
under other circumstances, and the unfathomable mystery of its
expression might have awakened intense interest and sympathy; but as it
was, Edith had no place for any other feelings than suspicion,
indignation, and scorn.

"What do you mean by this treatment?" said Edith, abruptly. "It seems as
though you are trying to imprison me. I have told you that I wish to
call on Miss Plympton. I can not get a carriage, and I am not allowed
to leave this place on foot. You are responsible for this, and I tell
you now that I must go, and at once."

At this peremptory address Wiggins stood looking at her with his usual
expression, and for some moments made no reply.

"I did not know," said he at length, in a slow and hesitating voice,
"that you wished to leave so soon."

"But I told you so. You drove away Miss Plympton yesterday from my
gates. I promised to call on her this morning. She is anxiously
expecting me. I must go to her." Wiggins again waited for a few moments
before replying, and at length said, in an abstracted tone:

"No, no; it can not be--it can not be!"

"Can not be!" repeated Edith. "It seems to me that you are trying to