Edith heard all this, and her amazement was so great that it drove away all fatigue. Her heart beat high and her spirit rose at this insult. Opening the carriage door, she sprang out, and, walking up to the gate, she confronted the porter as a goddess might confront a satyr. The calm, cold gaze which she gave his was one which the brute could not encounter. He could face any one of his own order; but the eye that now rested on him gave him pain, and his glance fell sulkily before that of his mistress. “I am your mistress--Miss Dalton,” said Edith. “Open that gate immediately.” “I don't know any thing about mistresses,” said the fellow. “My orders are not to open them gates to nobody.” At this rebuff Edith was for a moment perplexed, but soon rallied. She reflected that this man was a servant under orders, and that it would be useless to talk to him. She must see the principal. “Who gave those orders?” she asked. “Mr. Wiggins,” said the man, gruffly. “Is that man here now?” asked Edith. The man looked up suspiciously and in evident surprise, but his eyes fell again. “Mr. Wiggins? He is here; he lives here.” “Then do you go at once,” said Edith, loftily, “and say to that man that Miss Dalton is here.” The fellow glanced furtively at the carriage, where he saw the pale face of Miss Plympton and the paler face of the maid, and then with a grunt he turned and walked up the avenue. Edith went back to the carriage and resumed her seat. This scene had produced a profound effect upon her two companions. Miss Plympton's worst apprehensions seemed justified by this rude repulse at the gates, and the moment that Edith came back she began to entreat her to return. “Come back,” she said, “to the inn. Do, darling, at least for the night, till we can send word to Wiggins.” “No,” said Edith, firmly; “I will not recognize Wiggins at all. I am going to dismiss him the moment that I enter the Hall. I can wait patiently just now.” “But at least come back for this night. You may be sure that they will not be ready for you. You will have to come back after all.” “Well,” said Edith, “I shall at least take formal possession of Dalton Hall first, and let Wiggins see that I am mistress there.” Miss Plympton sighed. Every hour only showed in a stronger manner how hopeless was any attempt of hers to move Edith from any resolve that she might make. Already she recognized in that slender young girl the stubborn spirit of her father--a spirit which would meet death and destruction rather than swerve from its set purpose.