His figure was bent to advance.  The squire shouted an order to Sewis to run round to the stables and slip the dogs loose.

‘Is it your final decision?’ Mr. Richmond asked.

’Damn your fine words!  Yes, it is.  I keep my flock clear of a foul sheep.’

’Mr. Beltham, I implore you, be merciful.  I submit to any conditions:  only let me see her.  I will walk the park till morning, but say that an interview shall be granted in the morning.  Frankly, sir, it is not my intention to employ force:  I throw myself utterly on your mercy.  I love the woman; I have much to repent of.  I see her, and I go; but once I must see her.  So far I also speak positively.’

‘Speak as positively as you like,’ said the squire.

’By the laws of nature and the laws of man, Marian Richmond is mine to support and comfort, and none can hinder me, Mr. Beltham; none, if I resolve to take her to myself.’

‘Can’t they!’ said the squire.

’A curse be on him, heaven’s lightnings descend on him, who keeps husband from wife in calamity!’

The squire whistled for his dogs.

As if wounded to the quick by this cold-blooded action, Mr. Richmond stood to his fullest height.

’Nor, sir, on my application during to-morrow’s daylight shall I see her?’

’Nor, sir, on your application’—­the squire drawled in uncontrollable mimicking contempt of the other’s florid forms of speech, ending in his own style,—­’no, you won’t.’

’You claim a paternal right to refuse me:  my wife is your child.  Good.  I wish to see my son.’

On that point the squire was equally decided.  ‘You can’t.  He’s asleep.’

‘I insist.’

‘Nonsense:  I tell you he’s a-bed and asleep.’

‘I repeat, I insist.’

‘When the boy’s fast asleep, man!’

’The boy is my flesh and blood.  You have spoken for your daughter—­I speak for my son.  I will see him, though I have to batter at your doors till sunrise.’

Some minutes later the boy was taken out of his bed by his aunt Dorothy, who dressed him by the dark window-light, crying bitterly, while she said, ‘Hush, hush!’ and fastened on his small garments between tender huggings of his body and kissings of his cheeks.  He was told that he had nothing to be afraid of.  A gentleman wanted to see him:  nothing more.  Whether the gentleman was a good gentleman, and not a robber, he could not learn but his aunt Dorothy, having wrapped him warm in shawl and comforter, and tremblingly tied his hat-strings under his chin, assured him, with convulsive caresses, that it would soon be over, and he would soon be lying again snug and happy in his dear little bed.  She handed him to Sewis on the stairs, keeping his fingers for an instant to kiss them:  after which, old Sewis, the lord of the pantry, where all sweet things were stored, deposited him on the floor of the hall, and he found himself facing the man of the night.  It appeared to him that the stranger was of enormous size, like the giants of fairy books:  for as he stood a little out of the doorway there was a peep of night sky and trees behind him, and the trees looked very much smaller, and hardly any sky was to be seen except over his shoulders.