“Ay, to my curse and bitter shame be it said, I _am_ her father,” replied the duke, “and have power to punish both the victim and the tempter. Your conduct, base son of a baser father, shall be answered for before the king, but first stand by and see your weak victim meet the reward of her art.” As he spoke, Somerset grasped the youth by his arm, and hurling him among his followers, shouted, “secure the traitor, or if he resist cut him down. Now on to the attack. A hundred pounds to the first man who forces an entrance to the church. Set fire to it if our strength be not enough, and let no one found there escape alive.” The confusion which followed this order was instant and tremendous. The mob rushed fiercely upon the Protector in a fruitless effort to rescue Lord Dudley, while the soldiers sprang forward upon the building, and half a score were seen clambering like wild animals along the rough stone-work toward the windows, for still the mob kept possession of the door. The group which we left within the church hearing this command, looked sternly into each other’s faces, and their leader—he who had admitted Dudley and his companion—was aided by his friends, and sprang within the shattered window just as the head of a clambering assailant was raised above the sill. The sexton, for the man held that office in the church, planted one foot upon the soldier’s fingers, when they clung with a fierce gripe upon the stone, and stooping down he secured the poor fellow by both shoulders, bent him back till his body was almost doubled, and then with hands and foot spurned him from the wall with a violence that hurled him many paces into the crowd. Another and another shared the fate of this unfortunate man, and there stood the sexton, unharmed, guarding the pass like a lion at bay, and tearing up fragments of stone to hurl at the soldiers whenever he was not compelled to act on the defensive; but his situation soon became very critical, for his station became the point of general attack, and Somerset’s voice was still heard fiercely ordering his men to fire the building; for a moment the shower of missiles hurled from the soldiers beat him down, and he was forced to spring into the church among his companions again for shelter. The poor young lady heard the savage command of her parent, and, rushing to the men, frantically besought them to inform the Duke of Somerset his child was in the building, and that, she was certain, would save it from destruction. There was something in the helplessness and touching beauty of that young creature as she stood before them, wringing her hands, and with tears streaming down her pale cheek, that touched the men with compassion, or she might have perished by their hands when her connection with their oppressor was made known. They looked in each other’s faces and a few rapid words passed between them. The sexton sprang once more upon the window, the rest turned upon the