“You!” exclaimed Sir Francis.

“Even I,” replied Sir Giles, with a smile of gratified vanity.  “Now, mark me, Sir Francis.  I have a surprise for you.  It is not enough for me to hurl this aspiring youth from his proud position, and cover him with disgrace—­it is not enough to immure him in the Fleet; but I will deprive him of his choicest treasure—­of the object of his devoted affections.”

“Ay, indeed!” exclaimed Sir Francis.

“By my directions Clement Lanyere has kept constant watch over him, and has discovered that the young man’s heart is fixed upon a maiden of great beauty, named Aveline Calveley, daughter of the crazy Puritan who threatened the King’s life some three or four months ago at Theobalds.”

“I mind me of the circumstance,” observed Sir Francis.

“This maiden lives in great seclusion with an elderly dame, but I have found out her retreat.  I have said that Sir Jocelyn is enamoured of her, and she is by no means insensible to his passion.  But a bar exists to their happiness.  Almost with his last breath, a promise was extorted from his daughter by Hugh Calveley, that if her hand should be claimed within a year by one to whom he had engaged her, but with whose name even she was wholly unacquainted, she would unhesitatingly give it to him.”

“And will the claim be made?”

“It will.”

“And think you she will fulfil her promise?”

“I am sure of it.  A dying father’s commands are sacred with one like her.”

“Have you seen her, Sir Giles?  Is she so very beautiful as represented?”

“I have not yet seen her; but she will be here anon.  And you can then judge for yourself.”

“She here!” exclaimed Sir Francis.  “By what magic will you bring her hither?”

“By a spell that cannot fail in effect,” replied Sir Giles, with a grim smile.  “I have summoned her in her father’s name.  I have sent for her to tell her that her hand will be claimed.”

“By whom?” inquired Sir Francis.

“That is my secret,” replied Sir Giles.

At this juncture there was a tap at the door, and Sir Giles, telling the person without to enter, it was opened by Clement Lanyere, wrapped in his long mantle, and with his countenance hidden by his mask.

“They are here,” he said.

“The damsel and the elderly female?” cried Sir Giles.

And receiving a response in the affirmative from the promoter, he bade him usher them in at once.

The next moment Aveline, attended by a decent-looking woman, somewhat stricken in years, entered the room.  They were followed by Clement Lanyere.  The maiden was attired in deep mourning, and though looking very pale, her surpassing beauty produced a strong impression upon Sir Francis Mitchell, who instantly arose on seeing her, and made her a profound, and, as he considered, courtly salutation.

Without bestowing any attention on him, Aveline addressed herself to Sir Giles, whose look filled her with terror.