I, Lord Fitzwater," said Sir Ralph, "in that sense:
but hear me. I was commissioned by the king to apprehend the Earl of
Huntingdon. I brought with me a party of soldiers, picked and tried men,
knowing that he would not lightly yield. I sent my lieutenant with a
detachment to surprise the earl's castle in his absence, and laid my
measures for intercepting him on the way to his intended nuptials; but
he seems to have had intimation of this part of my plan, for he brought
with him a large armed retinue, and took a circuitous route, which made
him, I believe, somewhat later than his appointed hour. When the lapse
of time showed me that he had taken another track, I pursued him to the
chapel; and I would have awaited the close of the ceremony, if I had
thought that either yourself or your daughter would have felt desirous
that she should have been the bride of an outlaw."

"Who said, sir," cried the baron, "that we were desirous of any such
thing? But truly, sir, if I had a mind to the devil for a son-in-law, I
would fain see the man that should venture to interfere."

"That would I," said the friar; "for I have undertaken to make her
renounce the devil."

"She shall not renounce the devil," said the baron, "unless I please.
You are very ready with your undertakings. Will you undertake to make
her renounce the earl, who, I believe, is the devil incarnate? Will you
undertake that?"

"Will I undertake," said the friar, "to make Trent run westward, or to
make flame burn downward, or to make a tree grow with its head in the
earth and its root in the air?"

"So then," said the baron, "a girl's mind is as hard to change as nature
and the elements, and it is easier to make her renounce the devil than a
lover. Are you a match for the devil, and no match for a man?"

"My warfare," said the friar, "is not of this world. I am militant not
against man, but the devil, who goes about seeking what he may devour."

"Oh! does he so?" said the baron: "then I take it that makes you look
for him so often in my buttery. Will you cast out the devil whose name
is Legion, when you cannot cast out the imp whose name is Love?"

"Marriages," said the friar, "are made in heaven. Love is God's work,
and therewith I meddle not."

"God's work, indeed!" said the baron, "when the ceremony was cut short
in the church. Could men have put them asunder, if God had joined them
together? And the earl is now no earl, but plain Robert Fitz-Ooth:
therefor