ance, I commit the
charge; and I must further request, that you will show him every
attention which his situation will permit. Remove him. We have a sacred
duty to the dead to fulfil, to which even justice to the living must
give way. Disperse this crowd, and let instant preparations be made for
the completion of the ceremonial. You understand me, sir."

"Ranulph Rookwood," said Luke, sternly, as he departed, "you have
another--a more sacred office to perform. Fulfil your duty to your
father's son."

"Away with him!" cried Lady Rookwood. "I am out of all patience with
this trilling. Follow me to my chamber," added she to her son, passing
towards the door. The concourse of spectators, who had listened to this
extraordinary scene in astonishment, made way for her instantly, and she
left the room, accompanied by Ranulph. The prisoner was led out by the
other door.

"Botheration!" cried Titus to Mr. Coates, as they followed in the wake,
"why did he choose out me? I'll lose the funeral entirely by his
arrangement."

"That you will," replied Palmer. "Shall I be your deputy?"

"No, no," returned Coates. "I will have no other than Mr. Tyrconnel. It
was Sir Ranulph's express wish."

"That's the devil of it," returned Titus; "and I, who was to have been
chief mourner, and have made all the preparations, am to be omitted. I
wish Sir Ranulph had stayed till to-morrow--what could bring him here,
to spoil all?--it's cursedly provoking!"

"Cursed provoking!" echoed Jack.

"But then there's no help, so I must make the best of it," returned the
good-humored Irishman.

"Body o' me," said Coates, "there's something in all this that I can't
fathom. As to keeping the prisoner _here_, that's all moonshine. But I
suppose we shall know the whole drift of it to-morrow."

"Ay," replied Jack, with a meaning smile, "to-morrow!"

_BOOK II_

_THE SEXTON_

_Duchess._ Thou art very plain.

_Bosola._ My trade is to flatter the dead--not the living--I am a
tomb-maker.

WEBSTER.

_CHAPTER I_

_THE STORM_

Come, list, and hark! the bell doth towle,
For some but now departing sowle;
And was not that some ominous fowle?
The bat, the night-crow, or screech-owle?
To these I hear the wild wolf howle,
In this dark night that seems to scowle;--
All these my blacke-booke shall enrowle,
For hark! still hark! the bell d