"Never, sir! never! Get you gone! base domestic traitor! Get you gone,
lest I call my servants, and bid them spurn you from my premises!"

"I go, sir--" he began calmly; but at this moment St. George came upon
the scene, having just returned from Windsor, eager, but, alas! too
late, to anticipate the shameful scene--and to him did George Delawarr
turn with unutterable anguish in his eyes. "Bid my men bring my horses
after me, St. George," said he, firmly, but mournfully; "for me, this
is no place any longer. Farewell, sir! you will repent of this. Adieu,
Blanche, we shall meet again, sweet one."

"Never! dog, never! or with my own hands--"

"Hush! hush! for shame. Peace, Mister Fitz-Henry, these words are not
such as may pass between gentlemen. Go, George, for God's sake! Go,
and prevent worse scandal," cried the viscount.

And miserable beyond all comprehension, his dream of bliss thus
cruelly cut short, the young man went his way, leaving his mistress
hanging in a deep swoon, happy to be for a while unconscious of her
misery, upon her father's arm.

Three days had passed--three dark, dismal, hopeless days. Delawarr did
his duty with his regiment, nay, did it well--but he was utterly
unconscious, his mind was afar off, as of a man walking in a dream.
Late on the third night a small note was put into his hands, blistered
and soiled with tears. A wan smile crossed his face, he ordered his
horses at daybreak, drained a deep draught of wine, sauntered away to
his own chamber, stopping at every two or three paces in deep
meditation; threw himself on his bed, for the first time in his life
without praying, and slept, or seemed to sleep, till daybreak.

Three days had passed--three dark, dismal, hopeless days! Blanche was
half dead--for she now despaired. All methods had been tried with the
fierce and prejudiced old man, secretly prompted by that
demon-girl--and all tried in vain. Poor Blanche had implored him to
suffer her to resign her birthright in favor of her sister, who would
wed to suit his wishes, but in vain. The generous St. George had
offered to purchase for his friend, as speedily as possible, every
step to the very highest in the service; nay, he had obtained from the
easy monarch a promise to raise him to the peerage, but in vain.

And Blanche despaired; and St. George left the Hall in sorrow and
disgust that he could effect nothing.

That evening Blanche's maid, a true and honest girl, delivered to he