“Come, come, my child, look up, give me your hand, let me put you into the carriage; there are some necessary forms to be gone through, and then you are free; and you are to go home with me to Bloomingdale parsonage, for a visit, until your father feels better and comes for you, as he will.” But still she neither moved, nor spoke, and might have seemed less a woman, or a spirit, than some draped marble statue. “Come, my lamb, come,” pursued Mr. Oldfield, taking her cold and passive hand, drawing it within his arm, and leading her away. Very docilely she suffered herself to be placed in the carriage, when Mr. Oldfield entered and took the seat beside her, and Mr. Trevor followed, and placed himself on the front cushion. The policeman mounted the box beside the coachman, and the carriage was driven off. Almost immediately after, the Bishop on Exeter and Lord Montressor entered the carriage of the latter, and followed on the same road. CHAPTER II. THE ARRESTED BRIDE. “Her look composed, and steady eye, Bespoke a matchless constancy; And there she stood, so calm and pale, That, but her breathing did not fail, And motion slight of eye and head, And of her bosom, warranted That neither sense, nor pulse she lacks, You might have thought a form of wax Carved to the very life, was there; So still she was, so pale, so fair.”—_Scott._ A rapid drive of an hour’s length, brought the party to Horsford, the seat of Sir George Bannerman, knight, the magistrate who had issued the warrant. A winding avenue led from the highway to the hall. On arriving before the main entrance, the foremost carriage drove up, and the footman sprang down from behind, opened the door and let down the steps, while the policeman got off the box and stood guard. Mr. Oldfield alighted first, and handed out Estelle, who, pale as death, with her face still wrapped in her bridal vail, mechanically permitted herself to be conducted by her aged friend up the broad marble stairs leading into the hall. They were preceded by the policeman, who knocked at the door, which was opened by a footman in attendance; while just within, the fat, gouty-looking porter, sat indolently in his arm-chair, with gold spectacles on his nose, reading the “Times.” The policeman telegraphed to this dignitary, who, without leaving his seat, or raising his eyes from his paper, answered— “In the library. Here, John, show this party up.” The footman who had admitted them, now came forward, indicated his forehead with his forefinger, by way of obeisance to the lady and the clergymen, beckoned the officer, and led the way up the broad oaken stairs to a long gallery above, at the extreme end of which was the door of the library, where the preliminary examination was to be conducted. Opening this door, the man announced—