self; the hour is at hand when it shall be seen and felt in
majesty!"

The voice of the chaplain became suddenly choaked, for his wandering eye
had fallen on the frowning countenance of Bignall, which, set in death,
lay but half concealed beneath that flag which the Rover himself had cast
upon the body. Then, summoning his energies, he continued, in the clear
and admonitory strain that befitted his sacred calling: "They tell me you
are but half lost to feeling for your kind; and, though the seeds of
better principles, of better days, are smothered in your heart, that they
still exist and might be quickened into goodly"

"Peace! You speak in vain. To your duty with these men, or be silent."

"Is their doom sealed?"

"It is."

"Who says it?" demanded a low voice at the elbow of the Rover, which,
coming upon his ear at that moment, thrilled upon his most latent nerve,
chasing the blood from his cheek to the secret recesses of his frame. But
the weakness had already passed away with the surprise, as he calmly, and
almost instantly answered,--

"The law."

"The law!" repeated the governess. "Can they who set all order at
defiance, who despise each human regulation, talk of law! Say, it is
heartless, vindictive vengeance, if you will; but call it not by the
sacred name of law.--I wander from my object! They have told me of this
frightful scene, and I am come to offer ransom for the offenders. Name
your price, and let it be worthy of the subject we redeem; a grateful
parent shall freely give it all for the preserver of his child."

"If gold will purchase the lives you wish," the other interrupted, with
the swiftness of thought, "it is here in hoards, and ready on the moment.
What say my people! Will they take ransom?"

A short, brooding pause succeeded; and then a low, ominous murmur was
raised in the throng, announcing their reluctance to dispense with
vengeance. A scornful glance shot from the glowing eye of the Rover,
across the fierce countenances by which he was environed; his lips moved
with vehemence; but, as if he disdained further intercession, nothing was
uttered for the ear. Turning to the divine, he added, with all the former
composure of his wonderful manner,--

"Forget not your sacred office--time is leaving us." He was then moving
slowly aside, in imitation of the governess, who had already veiled her
features from the revolting scene, when Wilder addressed him.

"For the service you would have done