“Come, we will wed straightway and before dawn thou wilt have forgotten my haste and stout urging,” and he started forth drawing her with him by force.  She struggled wildly and cried,—­

“Nay, nay; I’ll not marry with one who would strike down and kill the unfortunate; nay, nay!” and she screamed again and again.

From the doorway came a voice of thunder, its power seemed to crush out all other presence.  ’Twas but one word, but it rung and vibrated and stirred each breast with its vehemence.

“Cedric!”

His Lordship let go the maid and turned and sprang to the open arms of him who called.  The awful tension of his nerves relaxed and he uttered in rapid succession,—­

“Julian, Julian, Julian!” and fell to sobbing, his form trembling with his emotion.

“Hath gore of canaille sapped thy noble blood and impregnated in thy veins vile clots to turn thee purple with choler?” and he pushed Cedric from him.  “What doeth this couchant dog here?” He turned and stirred the prostrate form of Christopher. “’Tis ill to so fall upon the seething caldron of thy passion, the noxious fumes of which penetrate yonder to our kinsman’s couch of suffering—­and at the same time thou dost pound to pomace the heart of yonder Junoesque figure.”

“Julian, thy tongue hath an awful strength, it doth goad me to something like reason.  I was indeed rough, but I was looking after mine own.  The maiden there is plighted to me for espousal and I was taking her to the chaplain.”

“It may be thou dost take her rightfully; but if ’twere me I would bring her to it by soft and gentle words, not by handling.  It doth take away the sweetness.”

“Indeed, Julian, I have used all things worth using to gain her.  I have played all parts and have asked and sued and prayed, aye, begged.  I have honoured and loved and pampered her every whim; I have coerced and threatened,—­all to no avail; indeed, I have gone mad for very effort to please.”

“Hast thou tried cold indifference and haughtiness?  It oft haps that a maid is won by a lofty and arrogant mien.”  Sir Julian Pomphrey glanced askance at Mistress Penwick, who lay with her face buried upon Janet’s ample bosom.  “Methinks ’twould be a good beginning, if thou wouldst renew thy suit by sending the maid to her chamber and let her espouse Morpheus and ’suage her grief upon a bosom thou needst not be jealous of.”  Janet arose and led forth Katherine.  Lord Cedric stepped after them and held out his hands and sobbed,—­

“Kate, Kate, forgive, forgive!” She deigned not a backward look.

As they passed from sight, he fell upon his knees and shook with his great emotion and groaned aloud in his misery.

Sir Julian Pomphrey dressed as a gentleman of France in riding apparel; his overhanging top-boots displaying a leg of strength and fine proportions; the curls of his periwig sweeping his broad shoulders; his hands, half-hid by rare lace, gleaming white and be-jewelled; a mustachio so flattened with pomade it lay like a black line over his parted lips, through which shone strong white teeth, was veritably a man of noble character and distinction.  He was the counterpart of Lord Cedric in all save visage and temperament.