She walked very fast, after she left the house. She wanted to reach Oldclough before one whit of her anger cooled down; though, somehow, she felt quite sure, that, even when her anger died out, her courage would not take flight with it. Mr. Dugald Binnie had not proved to be a very fascinating person. He was an acrid, dictatorial old man: he contradicted Lady Theobald flatly every five minutes, and bullied his man-servant. But it was not against him that Lucia's indignation was aroused. She felt that Lady Theobald was quite capable of suggesting to him that Francis Barold would be a good match for her; and, if she had done so, it was scarcely his fault if he had accepted the idea. She understood now why she had been allowed to visit Octavia, and why divers other things had happened. She had been sent to walk with Francis Barold; he had been almost reproached when he had not called; perhaps her ladyship had been good enough to suggest to him that it was his duty to further her plans. She was as capable of that as of any thing else which would assist her to gain her point. The girl's cheeks grew hotter and hotter, her eyes brighter, at every step, because every step brought some new thought: her hands trembled, and her heart beat. "I shall never be afraid of her again," she said, as she turned the corner into the road. "Never! never!" And at that very moment a gentleman stepped out of the wood at her right, and stopped before her. She started back, with a cry. "Mr. Burmistone!" she said: "Mr. Burmistone!" She wondered if he had heard her last words: she fancied he had. He took hold of her shaking little hand, and looked down at her excited face. "I am glad I waited for you," he said, in the quietest possible tone. "Something is the matter." She knew there would be no use in trying to conceal the truth, and she was not in the mood to make the effort. She scarcely knew herself. She gave quite a fierce little laugh. "I am angry!" she said. "You have never seen me angry before. I am on my way to my--to Lady Theobald." He held her hand as calmly as before. He understood a great deal more than she could have imagined. "What are you going to say to her?" he asked. She laughed again. "I am going to ask her what she means. I am going to tell her she has made a mistake. I am going to prove to her that I am not such a coward, after all. I am going to tell her that I dare disobey her,--_that_ is what I am going to say to her," she concluded decisively. He held her hand rather closer. "Let us take a stroll in the copse, and talk it over," he said. "It is deliciously cool there." "I don't want to be cool," she said. But he drew her gently with him; and a few steps took them into the shade of the young oaks and pines, and there he paused. "She has made you very angry?" he said.