“Oh, Mr. Simmons! you look like a good man,” begged Elfie, who had twisted her head free—“and you may have sisters of your own; for their sakes——” But here Albert Goldsborough stopped her mouth again, and roared at the unfortunate parson to proceed. “You see, young lady, I have no alternative but to do what I am about to do. The man threatened to hang me if I refused,” pleaded the minister. “And the man will keep his word,” added Goldsborough. “And I have an old mother, and sisters also, as you suggested, depending on me for support. So I must do the bidding of this man. And besides, my dear young lady, as you are in the power of these men, it is far better that you should be lawfully married to their leader. If one of my young sisters were in your place, unless she could be immediately rescued, I should thank the first one in authority to lawfully marry her to her captor.” “Come, then! Stop this nonsense, and go on! or we will find a way to quicken your motions!” thundered Goldsborough. Thus strongly urged, the poor preacher once more opened his book, found the place, and commenced the marriage ceremony. The rites proceeded quietly enough, for Elfie’s hands were held too fast, and her lips were covered too closely, for her to offer any successful resistance. When the bridegroom was asked: “‘_Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?_’” Goldsborough answered in a loud, firm, sonorous voice: “‘_I will._’” When the similar question was put to the bride, Mutchison clapped his hand upon Elfie’s head and bent it down in assent. When the minister, proceeding with the ceremony, inquired: “‘_Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?_’” Mutchison answered, in a bold voice: “‘_I do._’” The ring was then forced upon the bride’s finger, and the marriage ceremony was concluded in the usual manner. “And now take notice that I have done this deed under compulsion! I wash my hands of the sin, and cast it upon the backs of those to whom it belongs!” said the persecuted preacher, turning to leave the hut. “Exactly! our backs are broad enough to bear it,” laughed Albert Goldsborough. Then turning to Mutchison, he said: “Go after him, and make him a tumbler of milk punch to set him up again. And leave me alone with my wife, that I may reconcile her to her husband.” CHAPTER XXII. THE MARCH. Come away! come away! Hark to the summons! Come in your war array. Gentiles and commons! Leave untended the herd, The flock without shelter; Leave the corpse uninterred, The bride at the altar.—SCOTT. It was written of an old usurper of the throne of England, that “having gained the kingdom by fraud and by cruelty, he nevertheless governed it in justice and in mercy.”