"This means ruin for us all, Mark," he murmured, "black, hideous ruin; Alva will never forgive; de Vargas will hate us with the hatred born of humiliation.... A public affront to his daughter! ... O Holy Virgin protect us!" he continued half-incoherently, "it will mean the scaffold for me, the stake for your mother..." He rose and said curtly, "I must speak with your mother." He went to the door but his step was unsteady. Mark forestalled him and placed himself against the door with his hand on the latch. "It means black ruin for us all, Mark," reiterated the High-Bailiff with sombre despair, "I must go and speak of it with your mother." "My mother is sick and anxious," said Mark quietly, "she cannot help what Laurence has done--you and I, father, can talk things over quietly without her." "There is nothing that you can say, Mark ... there is nothing we can do ... save, perhaps, pack up a few belongings and clear out of the country as quickly as we can ... that is, if there is time!" "Your imagination does not carry you very far, meseems," quoth Mark dryly. "Laurence’s default is not irreparable." "What do you mean?" "Am I not here to put it right?" "What?--you?" "By your leave." "You, Mark!" VI The transition from black despair to this sudden ray of hope was too much for the old man: he tottered and nearly measured his length on the floor. Mark had barely the time to save him from the fall. Now he passed his trembling hand across his eyes and forehead: his knees were shaking under him. "You, Mark," he murmured again. He managed to pour himself out a fresh mug of wine and drank it greedily: then he sat down, for his knees still refused him service. "It would be salvation indeed," he said, somewhat more steadily. Mark shrugged his shoulders with an air of complete indifference. "Well! frankly, father dear," he said, "I think that there is not much salvation for us in introducing a Spaniard into our home. Mother--and Laurence when he comes back--will have to be very careful in their talk. But you seem to think the present danger imminent...." "Imminent, ye gods!" exclaimed the High-Bailiff, unable to repress a shudder of terror at the thought. "I tell you, Mark, that de Vargas would never forgive what he would call a public insult--nor would Alva forgive what he would call open disobedience. Those two men--who are all-powerful and as cruel and cunning as fiends--would track us and hunt us down till they had brought you and me to the scaffold and your mother to the stake." "I know that, father," interposed Mark with some impatience, "else I would not dream of standing in Laurence’s shoes: the bride is very beautiful, but I have no liking for matrimony. The question is, will de Vargas guess the truth; he hath eyes like a lynx."