Richard then leveled another barrel at Reginald, but he howled out for quarter, and was immediately captured, and with the assistance of the brave Jessie, who now came boldly to her master's aid, his hands were tied behind him and he was made prisoner, with the stolen articles in his pocket. When they were tying him, he whimpered, and said it was only a lark; he never meant to keep anything. He offered a hundred pounds down if they would let him off. But there was no mercy for him. Richard Bassett had a candle lighted, and inspected the prisoner. He lifted his crape veil, and said “Oho!” “You see it was only a lark,” said Reginald, and shook in every limb. Richard Bassett smiled grimly, and said nothing. He gave Jessie strict orders to hold her tongue, and she and he between them took Reginald and locked him up in a small room adjoining the kitchen. They then went to look for the other burglar. He had emptied his pockets of all the plate, and crawled away. It is supposed he threw away the plate, either to soften Reginald's offense, or in the belief that he had received his death wound, and should not require silver vessels where he was going. Bassett picked up the articles and brought them in, and told Jessie to light the fire and make him a cup of coffee. He replaced all the plate, except the articles left in Reginald's pocket. Then he went upstairs, and told his wife that burglars had broken into the house, but had taken nothing; she was to give herself no anxiety. He told her no more than this, for his dark and cruel nature had already conceived an idea he did not care to communicate to her, on account of the strong opposition he foresaw from so good a Christian: besides, of late, since her daughter came home to back her, she had spoken her mind more than once. He kept them then in the dark, and went downstairs again to his coffee. He sat and sipped it, and, with it, his coming vengeance. All the defeats and mortifications he had endured from Huntercombe returned to his mind; and now, with one masterstroke he would balance them all. Yet he felt a little compunction. Active hostilities had ceased for many years. Lady Bassett, at all events, had held out the hand to his wife. The blow he meditated was very cruel: would not his wife and daughter say it was barbarous? Would not his own heart, the heart of a father, reproach him afterward? These misgivings, that would have restrained a less obstinate man, irritated Richard Bassett: he went into a rage, and said aloud, “I must do it: I will do it, come what may.” He told Jessie he valued her much: she should have a black silk gown for her courage and fidelity; but she must not be faithful by halves. She must not breathe one word to any soul in the house that the burglar was there under lock and key; if she did, he should turn her out of the house that moment.