A cry of anguish escaped Sir Jocelyn, as if a severe blow had been dealt
him--and he could scarcely articulate the inquiry, "By whom?"

"That I know not," she rejoined. "But the ill tidings have been
communicated to me by Sir Giles Mompesson."

"Sir Giles Mompesson!" exclaimed Sir Jocelyn, scarcely able to credit
what he heard. "Your father would never have surrendered you to him. It
is impossible he could have made any compact with such a villain."

"I do not say that he did; and if he had done so, I would die a thousand
deaths, and incur all the penalties attached to the sin of disobedience,
rather than fulfil it. Sir Giles is merely the mouth-piece of another,
who will not disclose himself till he appears to exact fulfilment of the
fatal pledge."

"But, be it whomsoever it may, the claim never can be granted," cried
Sir Jocelyn, in a voice of agony. "You will not consent to be bound by
such a contract. You will not thus sacrifice yourself. It is out of all
reason. Your father's promise cannot bind you. He had no right to
destroy his child. Will you listen to my council, Aveline?" he
continued, vehemently. "You have received this warning, and though it is
not likely to have been given with any very friendly design, still you
may take advantage of it, and avoid by flight the danger to which you
are exposed."

"Impossible," she answered. "I could not reconcile such a course to my
conscience, or to my reverence for my father's memory."

"There is still another course open to you," he pursued, "if you choose