"Ay, but there are some threats, Guy, that call for throat-cutting. Look to it. We know each other; and you know that, though I'm willing you should _marry_ Lucy, I'll not stand by and see you harm her; and, with my permission you lay no hands on her, until you are married." "Very well!" answered the ruffian sullenly, and turning away, "see that you get the priest soon ready. I'll wait upon neither man nor woman over long! You sha'n't trifle with me much longer." To this speech Munro made no answer. He devoted himself to his still insensible niece, whom he raised carefully from the floor, and laid her upon a rude settee that stood in the apartment. She meanwhile remained unconscious of his care, which was limited to fanning her face and sprinkling water upon it. "Why not carry her to her chamber--put her in bed, and let us be off?" said Rivers. "Wait awhile!" was the answer. The girl had evidently received a severe shock. Munro shook his head, and looked at Rivers angrily. "See to it, Guy, if any harm comes to her." "Pshaw!" said the other, "she is recovering now." He was right. The eyes of the sufferer unclosed, but they were vacant--they lacked all intelligence. Munro pulled a flask of spirits from his pocket, and poured some into her lips. They were livid, and her cheeks of ashy paleness. "She recovers--see!" The teeth opened and shut together again with a sudden spasmodic energy. The eyes began to receive light. Her breathing increased. "She will do now," muttered Munro. "She will recover directly. Get yourself ready, Guy, and prepare to mount, while I see that she is put to bed. It's now a necessity that we should push this stranger to the wall, and silence him altogether. I don't oppose you now, seeing that we've got to do it." "Ay," quoth Rivers, somewhat abstractedly--for he was a person of changing and capricious moods--"ay! ay! it has to be done! Well! we will do it!--as for her!" Here he drew nigh and grasped the hand of the only half-conscious damsel, and stared earnestly in her face. Her eyes opened largely and wildly upon him, then closed again; a shudder passed over her form, and her hand was convulsively withdrawn from his grasp. "Come, come, let her alone, and be off," said Munro. "As long as you are here, she'll be in a fit! See to the horses. There's no use to wait. You little know Lucy Munro if you reckon to get anything out of her. You may strike till doomsday at her bosom, but, where she's fixed in principle, she'll perish before she yields. Nothing can move her when she's resolved. In that she's the very likeness of her father, who was like a rock when he had sworn a thing." "Ha! but the rock may be split, and the woman's will must be made to yield to a superior. I could soon--" He took her hand once more in his iron grasp.