Then the young lord trembled as he thought of his bride whom he was about to desert. But the loyalty of a cavalier was his honor; so he turned to the door and led Madame Henrietta over its threshold. The puritan stood erect and motionless in the room waiting for retribution. He--he the rejected, the insulted, would triumph. Through the window he saw them reach the bridge, pass it, pass the gate, to horse and away, away! Still he waited. Then came footsteps towards the room, those of the bride, her father, and several attendants. “Arthur--Arthur,” said the young bride coming in laughingly for the crowning veil. “Ah captain! good day! Master Talbot--is he here?” “He was but an instant since.” “And--and now?” “He hath fled, he hath deserted thee!” Then there was a great cry and a start. “And the lady--Madame Henrietta--gone also?” Soon horsemen were flying from the castle--the rattle of drums calling to arms spread over the place--every soul about the castle was hurried and frightened. All but Captain Richard Forth, who stood cold and gratified, nursing his vengeance, and saying it was a judgment. But as he hears the alarm bell, he hears mixed with it a strange wild cry--near him--almost at his ear. Still the call to arms was repeated--still the alarm-bell rang out its dismal warning, and again the dull appealing cry was heard. This time he knew whence it came. It was uttered by Elvira. Wildly she was looking before her, and tearing the bridal flowers she wore to shreds, and breaking into bits the lace about her dress. “She--she wears the white veil! He looks on her, he smiles, and whispers that she is _his_ bride. And I, whom now am I? Elvira is his bride--am not _I_? Elvira? why is he not here?” Then wanderingly she placed her trembling right hand upon her head. “No, no,” she cried, and dropped the hand to her side. “Elvira--dear daughter--speak to me.” “No--no--NO--I am not Elvira.” “How pale thou art, Elvira.” “And--and thy eyes are fixed and staring.” “The judgment is heavy,” said the Captain, implacable. “Thus heaven punishes perfidy. SHE IS MAD.” And yet the captain stood calmly as the general fell despairingly at his feet. “But thou wilt return--mine Arthur--thou wilt return. I will faithfully wait for thee--wait--wait! And thou wilt come, Arthur. I will weep, I will weep for thee.” “Tears, tears,” said Captain Richard Forth; “tears for such as he--heaven’s tears. MAIDEN, I WILL AVENGE.” “Oh! how my heart throbs; and before my eyes is a great rain of blood. Arthur, Arthur, help me--help--help!” Then all those puritans there standing cursed him, and “the woman.” “Let not house, nor shore, harbor these accursed. Let their heads be free to the scorn of the wind and the storm, and may the dogs bark wrathfully at them. Let the whole earth war with them through life, and cast them from her bosom when dead. Let them live wishing for death. Let heaven be unapproached by them.” CHAPTER III.