“For shame!  Mareschal,” said Mr. Vere, “how can you so hastily misinterpret our friend’s intentions?  I am sure Sir Frederick can only be jesting with us; for, were he not too honourable to dream of deserting the cause, he cannot but remember the full proofs we have of his accession to it, and his eager activity in advancing it.  He cannot but be conscious, besides, that the first information will be readily received by government, and that if the question be, which can first lodge intelligence of the affair, we can easily save a few hours on him.”

“You should say you, and not we, when you talk of priorities in such a race of treachery; for my part, I won’t enter my horse for such a plate,” said Mareschal; and added betwixit his teeth, “A pretty pair of fellows to trust a man’s neck with!”

“I am not to be intimidated from doing what I think proper,” said Sir Frederick Langley; “and my first step shall be to leave Ellieslaw.  I have no reason to keep faith with one” (looking at Vere) “who has kept none with me.”

“In what respect,” said Ellieslaw, silencing, with a motion of his hand, his impetuous kinsman—­“how have I disappointed you, Sir Frederick?”

“In the nearest and most tender point—­you have trifled with me concerning our proposed alliance, which you well knew was the gage of our political undertaking.  This carrying off and this bringing back of Miss Vere,—­the cold reception I have met with from her, and the excuses with which you cover it, I believe to be mere evasions, that you may yourself retain possession of the estates which are hers by right, and make me, in the meanwhile, a tool in your desperate enterprise, by holding out hopes and expectations which you are resolved never to realize.”

“Sir Frederick, I protest, by all that is sacred—­”

“I will listen to no protestations; I have been cheated with them too long,” answered Sir Frederick.

“If you leave us,” said Ellieslaw, “you cannot but know both your ruin and ours is certain; all depends on our adhering together.”

“Leave me to take care of myself,” returned the knight; “but were what you say true, I would rather perish than be fooled any farther.”

“Can nothing—­no surety convince you of my sincerity?” said Ellieslaw, anxiously; “this morning I should have repelled your unjust suspicions as an insult; but situated as we now are—­”

“You feel yourself compelled to be sincere?” retorted Sir Frederick.  “If you would have me think so, there is but one way to convince me of it—­let your daughter bestow her hand on me this evening.”

“So soon?—­impossible,” answered Vere; “think of her late alarm—­of our present undertaking.”

“I will listen to nothing but to her consent, plighted at the altar.  You have a chapel in the castle—­Doctor Hobbler is present among the company-this proof of your good faith to-night, and we are again joined in heart and hand.  If you refuse me when it is so much for your advantage to consent, how shall I trust you to-morrow, when I shall stand committed in your undertaking, and unable to retract?”