“There is still another course open to you,” he pursued, “if you choose to adopt it; and that is, to take a stop which shall make the fulfilment of this promise impossible.”

“I understand you,” she replied; “but that is equally out of the question.  Often and often have I thought over this matter, and with much uneasiness; but I cannot relieve myself of the obligation imposed upon me.”

“O Aveline!” cried Sir Jocelyn.  “If you allow yourself, by any fancied scruples, to be forced into a marriage repugnant to your feelings, you will condemn both yourself and me to misery.”

“I know it—­I feel it; and yet there is no escape,” she cried, “Were I to act on your suggestions, and fly from this threatened danger, or remove it altogether by a marriage with you—­were I to disobey my father, I should never know a moment’s peace.”

There was a brief pause, interrupted only by her sobs.  At length Sir Jocelyn exclaimed quickly,

“Perhaps, we may be unnecessarily alarming ourselves, and this may only be a trick of Sir Giles Mompesson.  He may have heard of the promise you have made to your father, and may try to frighten you.  But whoever is put forward must substantiate his claim.”

As those words were uttered, there was a slight noise in the apartment, and looking up, they beheld the dusky figure of Clement Lanyere, masked and cloaked, as was his wont, standing beside them.

“You here?” cried Sir Jocelyn, in astonishment.

“Ay,” replied the promoter; “I am come to tell you that this is no idle fear,—­that the claim will be made, and will be substantiated.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Aveline, in a tone of anguish.

“You will not seek to evade it, I know, young mistress,” replied the promoter; “and therefore, as you have truly said, there is no escape.”

“Only let me know the claimant’s name,” cried Sir Jocelyn, “and I will engage he shall never fulfill his design.”

“O no; this must not be—­you must not resort to violence,” said Aveline.  “I will never consent to owe my deliverance to such means.”

“You shall have all the information you require after the jousts on Thursday,” said Lanyere; “and let the thought strengthen your arm in the strife, for if you fail, Aveline Calveley will have no protector in the hour of need.”

With this, he departed as suddenly and mysteriously as he had come.

CHAPTER VIII.

Whitehall.

The Tilt-yard at Whitehall, where the jousting was appointed to take place, was situated on the westerly side of the large area in front of the old Banqueting House (destroyed by fire soon after the date of this history, and replaced by the stately structure planned by Inigo Jones, still existing), and formed part of a long range of buildings appertaining to the palace, and running parallel with it in a northerly direction from Westminster, devoted to purposes of exercise and recreation, and including the Tennis-court, the Bowling-alley, the Manage, and the Cock-pit.