This service over, the gates of the fortress are opened to the market girls, with their fresh, demure faces, and their neat, almost sombre, garments. There is much talking about the young lady Elvira, the governor’s daughter, and how she was going to be married, and who to, and what he was like--but all this little tittle-tattle was carried on gravely, and with a demure air. But pacing apart is Captain Richard Forth--his puritan heart strongly beating against the governor’s injustice in recalling his promise, and the shame that a puritan leader should marry his daughter to one of the godless cavaliers. Nay--he speaks his complaints out aloud--whereon Robertson, a fellow officer, tells him to wear a fair face--there are his country and his soul to live for yet. “Open thy heart to me.” “‘Tis not a righteous act, I say. He hath promised me the maiden--and now I have returned, he doth recall his word.” “Heaven is a bride who never turneth away from the true lover.” “Death were welcome.” “I would fain death passed over thee if thou art in that frame, Richard Forth.” “I have lost her--I have lost her!” “And thereby perchance thou hast gained much. Heaven is merciful and all-seeing. Hark! dost hear the good march--embrace thy good sword--’twill not fail thee.” “But my weak arm may, my friend.” “Shame on thee, Richard Forth--methinks thou art a coward.” “No, friend, no! not a coward, but weak.” And the two friends turned towards the castle. CHAPTER II. That same day Colonel George Walton was sitting with his niece, Elvira, and chatting with her about the marriage. The leaven of puritanism was not so severely bitter in high as in low life. Among the latter there was still left something like cheerfulness and blithe talk. Sitting down near his niece, the uncle asked why she looked so sad? “I am thinking, second father.” “And of what, Elvira?” “Daughter, always call me daughter, second father.” “Well then, daughter. So, to-day, you are to be a bride!” The uncle then playfully supposed that ’twas the puritan lover who was to be the bridegroom; whereat the young lady protested, but the uncle soon uttered the talismanic name, Arthur. They were still talking when a trumpet call was heard without the fortress. A happy sound, for it announced the arrival of the bridegroom--Lord Arthur Talbot, in reality, but plain Master Arthur Talbot in those puritan times. Soon the young lord was within the room where were waiting for him the gentle Elvira and her good uncle Colonel George--not the plain little room where they had been chatting, but in the chief hall of the castle, where armor glistened on the walls, and from the windows of which could be seen the bristling fortifications. He met her, proud of himself and of her, and dressed gaily, in defiance of popular taste. And, truth to tell, but few in the great room could compare in demeanor or good looks, with Lord Arthur, or rather Master Talbot.