endship, which consists in
little else than a mutual disposition on the part of the friends, as
they call themselves, to abet each other in obscure fraud and petty
intrigue."

"You are severe, sir," said Miss Vere.

"Only just," said her father; "a humble copier I am from nature, with
the advantage of contemplating two such excellent studies as Lucy
Ilderton and yourself."

"If I have been unfortunate enough to offend, sir, I can conscientiously
excuse Miss Ilderton from being either my counsellor or confidante."

"Indeed! how came you, then," said Mr. Vere, "by the flippancy of
speech, and pertness of argument, by which you have disgusted Sir
Frederick, and given me of late such deep offence?"

"If my manner has been so unfortunate as to displease you, sir, it
is impossible for me to apologize too deeply, or too sincerely; but I
cannot confess the same contrition for having answered Sir Frederick
flippantly when he pressed me rudely. Since he forgot I was a lady, it
was time to show him that I am at least a woman."

"Reserve, then, your pertness for those who press you on the topic,
Isabella," said her father coldly; "for my part, I am weary of the
subject, and will never speak upon it again."

"God bless you, my dear father," said Isabella, seizing his reluctant
hand "there is nothing you can impose on me, save the task of listening
to this man's persecution, that I will call, or think, a hardship."

"You are very obliging, Miss Vere, when it happens to suit you to be
dutiful," said her unrelenting father, forcing himself at the same time
from the affectionate grasp of her hand; "but henceforward, child, I
shall save myself the trouble of offering you unpleasant advice on any
topic. You must look to yourself."

At this moment four ruffians rushed upon them. Mr. Vere and his servant
drew their hangers, which it was the fashion of the time to wear, and
attempted to defend themselves and protect Isabella. But while each of
them was engaged by an antagonist, she was forced into the thicket by
the two remaining villains, who placed her and themselves on horses
which stood ready behind the copse-wood. They mounted at the same time,
and, placing her between them, set of at a round gallop, holding the
reins of her horse on each side. By many an obscure and winding path,
over dale and down, through moss and moor, she was conveyed to the tower
of Westburnflat, where she remained strictly watched, but not otherwise
il