Break the
matter to him tenderly--and when he returns--I say no more. Away, thy
mission hath need of despatch."
The soldier made a slight inclination of the head as he departed.
Hildebrand Wentworth sat down to reap the fruits of his villany--a
harvest of his own planting. The full fruition of it he now seemed ready
to enjoy; but days and weeks passed by, and still found him feverish and
anxious. The fate of the children--whether the work of destruction had
or had not been accomplished--was still to him a matter of uncertainty.
He had often sent in search of the ruffians, but they had not been seen
at their usual haunts. Guilt whispered that all was not complete.
Restless and oppressed by undefined and terrible apprehensions, he
resolved to end his doubts, and, if possible, procure an interview. He
expected to obtain some clue to their procedings by a visit to the
tower.
It was not far from the close of a bright summer's day when he gained
the rude bridge below the waterfall. He shuddered as he looked on the
narrow trunk and the ever-tossing gulf beneath. The blackness of
darkness was upon his spirit, and he ran as if some demon had pursued
him, climbing with almost breathless haste the steep and winding
staircase that gave access from the bridge to the ruined fortress above.
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