This abrupt question, which was uttered in a sharp, strained voice, a little startled Walter. He replied shortly in the negative, and was about to spur onward, when the horseman continued--and there was something in his voice and manner that compelled attention: "And I am in doubt whether I have a child or not.--By G--! it is a bitter gnawing state of mind.--I may reach Knaresbro' to find my only daughter dead, Sir!--dead!" Despite of Walter's suspicions of the speaker, he could not but feel a thrill of sympathy at the visible distress with which these words were said. "I hope not," said he involuntarily. "Thank you, Sir," replied the Horseman, trying ineffectually to spur on his steed, which almost came down at the effort to proceed. "I have ridden thirty miles across the country at full speed, for they had no post-horses at the d--d place where I hired this brute. This was the only creature I could get for love or money; and now the devil only knows how important every moment may be.--While I speak, my child may breathe her last!--" and the man brought his clenched fist on the shoulder of his horse in mingled spite and rage. "All sham, your honour," whispered the Corporal. "Sir," cried the horseman, now raising his voice, "I need not have asked if you had been a father--if you had, you would have had compassion on me ere this,--you would have lent me your own horse." "The impudent rogue!" muttered the Corporal. "Sir," replied Walter, "it is not to the tale of every stranger that a man gives belief." "Belief!--ah, well, well, 'tis no matter," said the horseman, sullenly. "There was a time, man, when I would have forced what I now solicit; but my heart's gone. Ride on, Sir--ride on,--and the curse of--" "If," interrupted Walter, irresolutely--"if I could believe your statement:--but no. Mark me, Sir: I have reasons--fearful reasons, for imagining you mean this but as a snare!" "Ha!" said the horseman, deliberately, "have we met before?" "I believe so." "And you have had cause to complain of me? It may be--it may be: but were the grave before me, and if one lie would smite me into it, I solemnly swear that I now utter but the naked truth." "It would be folly to trust him, Bunting?" said Walter, turning round to his attendant. "Folly!--sheer madness--bother!" "If you are the man I take you for," said Walter, "you once lifted your voice against the murder, though you assisted in the robbery of a traveller:--that traveller was myself. I will remember the mercy--I will forget the outrage: and I will not believe that you have devised this tale as a snare. Take my horse, Sir; I will trust you." Houseman, for it was he, flung himself instantly from his saddle. "I don't ask God to bless you: a blessing in my mouth would be worse than a curse. But you will not repent this: you will not repent it!"