It was by this same man that the door of the vault was opened to Sir Jocelyn and Aveline. The shock experienced by the maiden at the sight of her father had well-nigh overcome her. She thought him dead, and such was Sir Jocelyn's first impression. The unfortunate Puritan was still propped against the pillar, as the halberdier had left him, but his head had fallen to one side, and his arms hung listlessly down. With a piercing shriek his daughter flew towards him, and kneeling beside him, raised his head gently, and gazing eagerly into his face, perceived that he still lived, though the spirit seemed ready to wing its flight from its fleshly tabernacle. The situation was one to call forth every latent energy in Aveline's character. Controlling her emotion, she uttered no further cry, but set herself, with calmness, to apply such restoratives as were at hand to her father. After bathing his temples and chafing his hands, she had the satisfaction, ere long, of seeing him open his eyes. At first, he seemed to have a difficulty in fixing his gaze upon her, but her voice reached his ears, and the feeble pressure of his hand told that he knew her. The power of speech returned to him at length, and he faintly murmured, "My child, I am glad to see you once more. I thought all was over; but it has pleased Heaven to spare me for a few moments to give you my blessing. Bow down your head, O my daughter, and take it; and though given by a sinner like myself, it shall profit you! May the merciful God, who pardoneth all that repent, even at the last hour, and watcheth over the orphan, bless you, and protect you!" "Amen!" exclaimed Jocelyn, fervently. "Who was it spoke?" demanded the Puritan. And as no answer was returned, he repeated the inquiry. "It was I--Jocelyn Mounchensey, the son of your old friend," replied the young man. "Come nigh to me, Jocelyn," said the dying man. "I have done you wrong, and entreat your pardon." "O, talk not thus!" cried Jocelyn, springing towards him. "I have nothing to forgive, but much to be forgiven." "You have a noble heart, Jocelyn," rejoined Hugh Calveley; "and in that respect resemble your father. In his name, I conjure you to listen to me. You will not refuse my dying request. I have a sacred trust to commit to you." "Name it!" cried the young man; "and rest assured it shall be fulfilled." "Give me some wine," gasped the Puritan, faintly. "My strength is failing fast, and it may revive me." And with, great effort he swallowed a few drops from the cup filled for him by Jocelyn. Still, his appearance was so alarming, that the young man could not help urging him not to delay. "I understand," replied Hugh Calveley, slightly pressing his hand. "You think I have no time to lose; and you are right. My child, then, is the trust I would confide to you. Son, behold thy sister! Daughter, behold thy brother!" "I will be more than a brother to her," cried Sir Jocelyn, earnestly.