“It is one who comes to tell you,” said the Dwarf, with the peculiar acrimony which usually marked his manner, “that, in marrying that young lady, you wed neither the heiress of Ellieslaw, nor of Mauley Hall, nor of Polverton, nor of one furrow of land, unless she marries with MY consent; and to thee that consent shall never be given. Down--down on thy knees, and thank Heaven that thou art prevented from wedding qualities with which thou hast no concern--portionless truth, virtue, and innocence--thou, base ingrate,” he continued, addressing himself to Ellieslaw, “what is thy wretched subterfuge now? Thou, who wouldst sell thy daughter to relieve thee from danger, as in famine thou wouldst have slain and devoured her to preserve thy own vile life!--Ay, hide thy face with thy hands; well mayst thou blush to look on him whose body thou didst consign to chains, his hand to guilt, and his soul to misery. Saved once more by the virtue of her who calls thee father, go hence, and may the pardon and benefits I confer on thee prove literal coals of fire, till thy brain is seared and scorched like mine!” Ellieslaw left the chapel with a gesture of mute despair. “Follow him, Hubert Ratcliffe,” said the Dwarf, “and inform him of his destiny. He will rejoice--for to breathe air and to handle gold is to him happiness.” “I understand nothing of all this,” said Sir Frederick Langley; “but we are here a body of gentlemen in arms and authority for King James; and whether you really, sir, be that Sir Edward Mauley, who has been so long supposed dead in confinement, or whether you be an impostor assuming his name and title, we will use the freedom of detaining you, till your appearance here, at this moment, is better accounted for; we will have no spies among us--Seize on him, my friends.” But the domestics shrunk back in doubt and alarm. Sir Frederick himself stepped forward towards the Recluse, as if to lay hands on his person, when his progress was suddenly stopped by the glittering point of a partisan, which the sturdy hand of Hobbie Elliot presented against his bosom. “I’ll gar daylight shine through ye, if ye offer to steer him!” said the stout Borderer; “stand back, or I’ll strike ye through! Naebody shall lay a finger on Elshie; he’s a canny neighbourly man, aye ready to make a friend help; and, though ye may think him a lamiter, yet, grippie for grippie, friend, I’ll wad a wether he’ll make the bluid spin frae under your nails. He’s a teugh carle Elshie! he grips like a smith’s vice.” “What has brought you here, Elliot?” said Mareschal; “who called on you for interference?”