“To me this insult!  I’ll chase thee from thy lair!” exclaimed the incensed Sir William.

Roger de Cliderhow at this moment suddenly approached, and in great alarm.  He whispered Sir Osmund.

“’Tis Sir William!—­Thou hast no time for parley.  If his coming get abroad we are undone.  Call thy men hither, and let him be conveyed away privily.  The dungeon will tell no tales.  I’ll summon them.  If the servants get a whisper of the matter, I’ll give out he is an impostor.”

Fearful of encountering the glance of his injured lord, this worthy withdrew in great precipitation.

It was but the work of a moment.  Sir Osmund had taken the precaution to prevent all egress, so that Sir William and his lady were, in fact, prisoners, at the mercy and discretion of a cruel and cowardly foe.

Sir William had thrown off his cloak and the remainder of his disguise.  He now stood proudly erect before the supplanter, who was somewhat stunned by this unexpected issue.

“I defy thee to the combat; hast thou the grace to give me a weapon, or art thou as cowardly as thou art presuming?” tauntingly inquired Sir William.

“Impostor! wouldst have me believe every wish that folly genders?  To the proof!” sullenly replied Sir Osmund.

“What says the Lady Mabel?  Let her decide,” returned the other.

“She!” cried the ingrate, with a contemptuous sneer; “her wits are so set upon it, that she would worship any ill-favoured lout that should call himself her husband.”

“’Tis false! unblushing as thou art.”  The lightning kindled in the lady’s eye as she spoke.  Sir Osmund quailed beneath her glance.

“Am I mad?” she continued; “ay, if thy wish could have goaded me to it.  Thou hast heaped on me tortures, indignities, cruel as thy relentless nature could devise; but I have been spared for this!” Her lips quivered.  Shuddering, she spoke with amazing energy and distinctness.  “I have repented, day and night, but they were unavailing tears.  Oh, if I have wronged thee”—­she covered her face with her hands—­“it was not even in thought that I grew unfaithful to thy trust.  My babes, in a moment of weakness I looked on them, smiling as they lay.  I could not dash the cup from their lips ere they had well nigh tasted.  I could not behold them so soon doomed to misery and want.”

She made a convulsive effort to repress her sobs.

“Can years of suffering atone for my crime?”

She drew back as she continued, “I abhor, I loathe the very existence I am forced to prolong.  The cloister alone can hide my wretchedness and my shame.”

“I forgive thee:  nay, shrink not from my embrace,” cried the distracted Sir William; “I blame thee not in my regret.  Pure, and as free from guilt as when first I knew thee, do I now receive thee to my arms.”

Sir Osmund smiled in contempt; at the same time casting a furtive glance towards the side entrance, where, true to his word, Roger De Cliderhow had summoned a guard of Welsh bowmen, their master’s accomplices in many a deed of violence and rapine.