In the meantime, Sir Francis Tyrrell had remained leaning with his hand upon the table, and trembling in every limb with passion. In a minute or two, however, he seemed seized with a sudden desire of following his son, and rushing out into the vestibule, he demanded his hat in a sharp tone. The man was as long in finding it as it was possible. He brought his master first one of his friend's and then one of his son's hats. But Sir Francis said nothing; for his thoughts were so intensely concentrated upon other subjects, that the petty obstacle was scarcely known. By the time he had got his hat, however, Mr. Driesen was at his side, and laid his hand upon his arm, saying, "Tyrrell, Tyrrell, listen to me!" "I have no time to listen," replied Sir Francis, and pushed past him. Mr. Driesen, however, followed him beyond the door, and caught him by the arm again, saying:-- "Nay, but you _shall_ listen to me, Tyrrell." "Then you shall listen to me first, sir," replied Sir Francis, while his eyes flashed fire at feeling himself forcibly detained. "Let me tell you a secret, Mr. Driesen, which it may be convenient for you to know, let me tell you a secret!" Mr. Driesen bent down his head to listen with a cynical smile upon his countenance; but whatever it was that Sir Francis said to him, it banished all smiles in a moment, and turned him very pale. "I will not believe," he replied, "that you could act so ungentlemanly a part." "You will see, sir, you will see," rejoined the baronet, with a menacing air, and breaking from him, he dashed into the wood by the selfsame path his son had taken. When he was gone, Mr. Driesen stood in the midst of the lawn, putting his hand more than once to his head, as if the sun incommoded him. The butler who saw him, wisely ran and brought him his hat, which he took, still remaining in a deep fit of thought. "You are right," he said at length, putting on the hat; "I had better go after them, for they are in a terrible state." Thus saying, he walked on toward the corner of the wood, but there paused for a full minute, as if still undecided what to do. He then went on along the path, but not long after returned, and, walking into the library, paused for a moment in thought, and then went up to his own room; after which he soon came down again apparently quite satisfied that everything would resume its own course when the momentary storm had blown over. About an hour after, while he was still sitting there, with the newspaper in his hand, Charles Tyrrell entered in haste and evident agitation. He said nothing to Mr. Driesen, who only looked up, for a moment, from the paper, but passed on to his own room, where he locked himself in, and remained for some time alone.