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 “My uncle is very angry; but he was with Robert, I believe: was he not? Did he not go with you to Stilbro’ Moor?”

“Yes: we set out in very martial style, Caroline; but the prisoners we went to rescue met us half-way.”

“Of course, nobody was hurt?”

“Why, no; only Joe Scott’s wrists were a little galled with being pinioned too tightly behind his back.”

“You were not there? You were not with the waggons when they were attacked?”

“No: one seldom has the fortune to be present at occurrences at which one would particularly wish to assist.”

“Where are you going this morning? I saw Murgatroyd saddling your horse in the yard.”

“To Whinbury: it is market-day.”

“Mr. Yorke is going, too: I met him in his gig. Come home with him.”

“Why?”

“Two are better than one, and nobody dislikes Mr. Yorke; at least, poor people do not dislike him.”

“Therefore he would be a protection to me, who am hated?”

“Who are misunderstood: that, probably, is the word. Shall you be late?—Will he be late, cousin Hortense?”

“It is too probable: he has often much business