“Hold your peace, you foolish woman,” said the Doctor. “Do you think this business is not bad enough already, that you are making it worse with your senseless claver? [Footnote: Tattling.]--Gentlemen, this is a very sad case. Here is a warrant for a high crime against a poor creature, who is little fit to be removed from one house to another, much more dragged to a prison. I tell you plainly, that I think the execution of this arrest may cause her death. It is your business, sir, if you be really her father, to consider what you can do to soften this matter, rather than drive it on.” “Better death than dishonour,” replied the stern-looking old man, with a voice as harsh as his aspect; “and you, messenger,” he continued, “look what you do, and execute the warrant at your peril.” “You hear,” said the man, appealing to the Doctor himself, “I must have immediate access to the lady.” “In a lucky time,” said Mr. Gray, “here comes the town-clerk.--You are very welcome, Mr. Lawford. Your opinion here is much wanted as a man of law, as well as of sense and humanity. I was never more glad to see you in all my life.” He then rapidly stated the case; and the messenger, understanding the new-comer to be a man of some authority, again exhibited his warrant. “This is a very sufficient and valid warrant, Dr. Gray,” replied the man of law. “Nevertheless, if you are disposed to make oath, that instant removal would be unfavourable to the lady's health, unquestionably she must remain here, suitably guarded.” “It is not so much the mere act of locomotion which I am afraid of,” said the surgeon; “but I am free to depone, on soul and conscience, that the shame and fear of her father's anger, and the sense of the affront of such an arrest, with terror for its consequences, may occasion violent and dangerous illness--even death itself.” “The father must see the daughter, though they may have quarrelled,” said Mr. Lawford; “the officer of justice must execute his warrant though it should frighten the criminal to death; these evils are only contingent, not direct and immediate consequences. You must give up the lady, Mr. Gray, though your hesitation is very natural.” “At least, Mr. Lawford, I ought to be certain that the person in my house is the party they search for.” “Admit me to her apartment,” replied the man whom the messenger termed Moncada. The messenger, whom the presence of Lawford had made something more placid, began to become impudent once more. He hoped, he said, by means of his female prisoner, to acquire the information necessary to apprehend the more guilty person. If more delays were thrown in his way, that information might come too late, and he would make all who were accessary to such delay responsible for the consequences. “And I,” said Mr. Gray, “though I were to be brought to the gallows for it, protest, that this course may be the murder of my patient.--Can bail not be taken, Mr. Lawford?”