It may speak little in Bernard’s favour, on a first view, that the unhappy consequences of the attack on Sir Edgar’s carriage, though they now caused him some anxiety of themselves, awakened in him no remorse or compunction for his share in the attack. The outrage had been attended with the loss of two lives, and had since, through the interference of Shedlock, involved the innocent family against whom it had been levelled in the deepest affliction; but, for all this, the enthusiast, amidst his concern for these evils, had not one prick of repentance. Was he, then, void of every sense of humanity? was his heart insensible to the most urgent calls of feeling and affection? No! It was stored, to the very brim, with choice and noble sympathies; it was naturally melting and pitiful as a child’s; but the remembrance of horrors that it would curdle the blood to mention, and which no interval of time could soften or deface, locked up his gentle qualities, and mailed his nature in revenge. Walking at a quick pace, he soon arrived at Neville Park, and pursued his way, without meeting any interruption, to the spot where his appointment with Hildebrand was to come off. It was some time past noon, the hour agreed on: but though he looked round, as far as he could see, in every direction, there was no sign of Hildebrand coming. He lingered about for an hour, walking to and fro; but, at the expiration of that period, he was no nearer his object than at first. Although, in the main, this was no more than he had expected, it greatly increased his anxiety, and tended to confirm his doubts of Hildebrand’s safety. He remembered that Hildebrand was to take his departure from the Grange to-day, on business which, at their last interview, he had alleged to be extremely urgent; and he was assured, therefore, as they could not meet again for some time, that, if he were at liberty, he would make an effort to keep his appointment. But another hour passed, and Bernard, now grown impatient, was still pacing the park-walk, and still utterly alone. Wearied with his watch, he began to grow angry, and, as he came to a sudden pause, he gave utterance to his feelings in a passionate exclamation. “The scornful boy neglects me!” he said. “I will even take me homewards.” The idea of home reminded him that Hildebrand had inquired after his residence, and suggested, on a second thought, that, as he might be unable to meet him in the park, it was not improbable that he would seek him there. Meditating on this probability, he determined to repair to his lodgings at once.