"Then you are indeed lost!" said she, clasping her hands; but the abbot who had hitherto remained silent and gloomy, patted her head kindly, and said--"My own good daughter, hearken to me; trust in Heaven and hope--hope, the friend of happiness." "But hope, Father Abbot, will desert us, unless----" said Gray, hesitating, as he turned imploringly to Murielle. "Unless what?" said the abbot. "Murielle becomes my bride--my wife!" "Sir Patrick Gray----" "Her ring is here; a betrothal ring it is, and a wedding-ring it shall be," continued Gray with increasing vehemence, as his voice with his emotion became deeper. "Good father abbot, my kinsman and my friend, you who knew and loved my father and mother well, you who were the guide and mentor of both, even as you are of me, will not hear me now in vain! The dangerous schemes of this ambitious earl----" "Enough, enough," interrupted the abbot gloomily, as he waved his hand; "to my sorrow and fear I know them all, and own they terrify me." "Then, to save our young king from many deadly perils, and our country from civil war--to save this miserable Duke Robert from the block on which his father perished--to save the house of Douglas from destruction, and, more than all, to save herself from misery, Murielle must wed me!" Murielle opened her tremulous lips to speak, but Gray added impetuously,--"To-day--to-night--now, instantly!" "Now?" reiterated the abbot. "Now, or it may be never!" "Oh, what is this you say?" said Murielle, shrinking closer to the abbot. "The solemn, the sad, the earnest, but the loving truth, dear Murielle," urged Gray, his eyes and heart filling as he spoke with passion and tenderness. Much more followed, but they spoke rapidly and briefly, for time was precious. "You will end all this by wedding me, my beloved," said Gray in her ear, as he pressed her to his breast, and stifled her reply by kisses. "Then at midnight we shall leave Bommel together for the sea-coast, from thence to Scotland and the king! Say that you will become my wife--here are the altar, the church, the priest, and his missal--here even the ring. Oh, say that you will, for with life I cannot separate from you again!" "My love for you," sobbed Murielle, "is stronger than my destiny----" "Nay, 'tis destiny that makes you love me." Her tears fell fast, but her silence gave consent.