Time passed thus, and Edith's impatience grew intolerable. At length, as she could not obtain a carriage, she determined to set out on foot and walk to Dalton. She began now to think that Wiggins had seen Hugo, found out what she wanted, and had forbidden the servant to obey. This seemed the only way in which she could account for it all. If this were so, it showed that there was some unpleasant meaning in the language which Wiggins had used to her on the previous evening about a secluded life, and in that case any delay made her situation more unpleasant. She had already lost too much time, and therefore could wait no longer. On the instant, therefore, she set out, and walked down the great avenue toward the gates. It was a longer distance than she had supposed: so long, indeed, did it seem that once or twice she feared that she had taken the wrong road; but at last her fears were driven away by the sight of the porter's lodge. On reaching the gates she found them locked. For this she had not been prepared; but a moment's reflection showed her that this need not excite surprise. She looked up at them with a faint idea of climbing over. One glance, however, showed that to be impossible; they were high, and spiked at the top, and over them was a stone arch which left no room for any one to climb over. She looked at the wall, but that also was beyond her powers. Only one thing now remained, and that was to apply to the porter. After this fellow's rudeness on the previous day, she felt an excessive repugnance toward making any application to him now; but her necessity was urgent, and time pressed. So she quieted her scruples, and going to the door of the porter's house, knocked impatiently. The porter came at once to the door, and bowed as respectfully as possible. His demeanor, in fact, was totally different from what it had been on the previous day, and evinced every desire to show respect, though perhaps he might manifest it rather awkwardly. Edith noticed this, and was encouraged by it. “I want you to let me out,” said Edith. “I'm going to Dalton.” The man looked at her, and then at the ground, and then fumbled his fingers together; after which he plunged his hands in his pockets. “Do you hear what I say?” said Edith, sharply. “I want you to unlock the gate.” “Well, miss, as to that--I humbly beg your pardon, miss, but I've got my orders not to.” “Nonsense,” said Edith. “No one here gives orders but me. I am mistress here.” “Beg pardon, miss, but I don't know any master but Master Wiggins.” “Wiggins!” said Edith. “Yes, miss, an' hopin' it's no offense. I have to obey orders.” “But he couldn't have given you orders about me,” said Edith, haughtily. “He said all persons, miss, comin' or goin', all the same. No offense bein' intended, miss, an' beggin' your pardon.” “But this is absurd,” said Edith. “He knows that I am going to Dalton. You have misunderstood him.”