Sir Edgar started up at this announcement; and, together with Don Felix, and Adam, who was waiting their commands in the matter, passed out of the chamber. As she heard them make their egress, Evaline, now perfectly hopeless, drew back from the casement, and ventured to turn round. She stood still a moment, as if her despair had deprived her of motion; and then, with frantic energy, rushed through the open doorway, and repaired to her own chamber. There she remained for several hours, alone and undisturbed. At last, when it had become quite dark, she was joined by Martha, who came to assist her to bed. Just as she had effected that object, a slight knock, yet evidently proceeding from an unsteady hand, was inflicted on the chamber-door. “’Tis my father,” cried Evaline. “Prithee advertise him, good Martha, I am marvellous weary now, and would be alone; but I will be well prepared to-morrow.” Martha hastened to the door, and, drawing it open, perceived that their visiter, as Evaline had foretold, was indeed Sir Edgar. Holding the door in her hand, she informed him, in a low tone, what Evaline had said, and desired to know his commands. “’Tis well,” answered Sir Edgar. “Inquire at what hour to-morrow she will be prepared.” “At nine of the clock, father!” replied Evaline, distinguishing what he said. “Till then, God and our Lady have thee in ward!” “And thee! and thee!” cried Sir Edgar. “We will attend thee in the morning.” And on the following morning, precisely at nine o’clock, the appointed hour, he and Don Felix were in attendance at her chamber-door. They were not kept waiting long. Shortly after they had taken their station, the door was opened, and Evaline, supported by Martha, appeared in the doorway. She was attired in her most costly habits; but their splendour, on being surveyed closely, sorted ill with her pallid complexion, and her inflamed and swollen eyes. Still she had constrained herself to look somewhat animated. She even smiled as she greeted her father, and readily accepted the support which, on her coming fairly into the passage, was proffered to her by Don Felix. Leaning on the arm of that person, and followed by Sir Edgar and Martha, she passed on to the chapel, which was on the floor beneath. But her resolution began to waver as she entered the chapel. Don Felix, though she still held his arm, paused at the chapel-door, and suffered Sir Edgar and Martha to pass on before them. He then secured the door. Wretched and horrified as she had been all along, Evaline now felt, in the severance of the last association with hope, a new and more terrible anguish, and the full wretchedness of her situation seemed to reveal itself only at this moment. But she had no time for reflection. The priest, who had entered the chapel before them, was waiting her at the altar; her father began to look pale and anxious; and Don Felix, though with more gentleness than his wont, led her trembling forward.