Charles hesitated. His heart seemed to swell in his bosom at this questioning; and though, in fact, he had strolled out without any idea of absenting himself at dinner, something like a spirit of rebellion induced him to answer, "To Sir Gilbert Harrington's, sir." "Good evening, then. Let me bespeak your ear for half an hour in my library to-morrow morning, between the hours of eleven and twelve." Charles bowed, but uttered not a word, and proceeded towards Oakley, inwardly muttering "_his library_!" He entered the mansion of his old friends without an apology, but stated the cause of his visit as it really was. "I could not bear to be examined by him as to where I was going, and when I was coming; and rather to prove my independence, than for any other reason, I am come to you. Can you forgive this?" "Ay, truly can we," replied the old lady; "and be sure to do the same next time, Charles. It makes me sick to think of this species of paternal admonishing." "I am to be lectured for my impatience under it, as I suspect; for he bade me meet him in _his library_ to-morrow morning." "His library! Scoundrel!" exclaimed Sir Gilbert through his closed teeth. "Shall I obey the mandate, Sir Gilbert?" said Charles. "Or shall I take no notice of it?" "The question seems an easy one to answer, Charles?" replied the baronet; "and had I been to answer yesterday morning, I should have said without hesitation,--set fire to the library, and stifle him in it like a weazel as he is, rather than come at his call. But I have taken it into my head since, that our test game will be to keep things soft and smooth for a while. So wait upon him, Master Charles, in your father's library, and hear all he has got to say; and don't turn yourself out of the house; and don't spit upon him if you can help it. But I hope he won't sit in poor Mowbray's chair!" In consequence of this counsel, Charles did wait upon the vicar in his father's library at the appointed hour, and took what comfort he could from perceiving that he was not seated in that lamented father's chair, but had ensconced himself in a newly-invented fauteuil of surpassing softness, which he had caused to be brought from the drawing-room for his especial comfort. "You have not kept me waiting, and I commend you for it, my son. May he, in whom I trust, lead you in his own good time to be all that your pious mother can wish to see you. Sit down, Charles--pray sit down." Poor Charles!--the whole scene was purgatory to him; but his courage did not forsake him: and instead of running out of the room, as he felt terribly tempted to do, he sat down opposite to his stepfather, determined to hear every thing he had to say.