In this mood he paced, without minding in what direction he went, under those great rows of timber which over-arch the pathway leading toward Redman's Dell--the path that he and Mark Wylder had trod in that misty moonlight walk on which I had seen them set out together. Before he had walked five minutes in this direction, he was encountered by a little girl in a cloak, who stopped and dropped a courtesy. The captain stopped also, and looked at her with a stare which, I suppose, had something forbidding in it, for the child was frightened. But the wild and menacing look was unconscious, and only the reflection of the dark speculations and passions which were tumbling and breaking in his soul. 'Well, child,' said he, gently, 'I think I know your face, but I forget your name.' 'Little Margery, please Sir, from Miss Lake at Redman's Farm,' she replied with a courtesy. 'Oh! to be sure, yes. And how is Miss Rachel?' 'Very bad with a headache, please, Sir.' 'Is she at home?' 'Yes, Sir, please.' 'Any message?' 'Yes, Sir, please--a note for you, Sir;' and she produced a note, rather, indeed, a letter. 'She desired me, Sir, please, to give it into your own hand, if I could, and not to leave it, please, Sir, unless you were at home when I reached.' He read the direction, and dropped it unopened into the pocket of his shooting coat. The peevish glance with which he eyed it betrayed a presentiment of something unpleasant. 'Any answer required?' 'No, Sir, please--only to leave it.' 'And Miss Lake is quite well?' 'No, Sir, please--a bad headache to-day.' 'Oh! I'm very sorry, indeed. Tell her so. She is at home, is she?' 'Yes, Sir.' 'Very well; that's all. Say I am very sorry to hear she is suffering; and if I can find time, I hope to see her to-day; and remember to say I have not read her letter, but if I find it requires an answer, it shall have one.' He looked round like a man newly awakened, and up among the great boughs and interlacing foliage of the noble trees, and the child made him two courtesies, and departed towards Redman's Farm. Lake sauntered back slowly toward the Hall. On his way, a rustic seat under the shadow invited him, and he sat down, drawing Rachel's letter from his pocket. What a genius they have for teasing! How women do contrive to waste our time and patience over nonsense! How ingeniously perverse their whimsies are! I do believe Beelzebub employs them still, as he did in Eden, for the special plague of us, poor devils. Here's a lecture or an exhortation from Miss Radie, and a quantity of infinitely absurd advice, all which I am to read and inwardly digest, and discuss with her whenever she pleases. I've a great mind to burn it quietly.' But he applied his match, instead, to his cigar; and having got it well lighted, he leaned back, and broke the seal, and read this letter, which, I suspect, notwithstanding his preliminary thoughts, he fancied might contain matter of more practical import:--