he way."

"The crowd is dense," replied Checkley. "They resist my effort."

"Are we prisoners here?" asked Mrs. Mowbray, in alarm.

"Let me make the attempt," cried Luke, with fiery impatience. "I will
force a passage out."

"Quit not your bride," whispered Peter, "as you value her safety. Heed
not aught else. She alone is in danger. Suffer her not to be withdrawn
from your hand, if you would not lose her. Remain here. I will bring the
matter to a speedy issue."

"Enough," replied Luke; "I stir not hence." And he drew his bride closer
towards him. He stooped to imprint a kiss upon her lips. A cold shudder
ran through her frame as he touched them, but she resisted not his
embrace.

Peter's attempt to effect an egress was as unsuccessful as that of the
priest. Presenting Excalibur at his bosom, the knight of Malta
challenged him to stand.

"You cannot pass," exclaimed the knight; "our orders are peremptory."

"What am I to understand by this?" said Peter, angrily. "Why are we
detained?"

"You will learn all anon," returned Barbara. "In the meantime you are my
prisoners--or, if you like not the phrase, my wedding guests."

"The wedding is complete," returned the sexton; "the bride and
bridegroom are impatient to depart, and we, the guests--albeit some of
us may be no foes to darkness--desire not to hold our nuptial revels
here."

"Sybil's wedding has not taken place," said Barbara; "you must tarry for
that."

"Ha! now it comes," thought Peter. "And who, may I ask," said he, aloud,
"amongst this goodly company, is to be her bridegroom?"

"The best amongst them," returned Barbara--"Sir Luke Rookwood."

"He has a bride already," replied Peter.

"She may be _removed_," said Barbara, with bitter and peculiar emphasis.
"Dost understand my meaning now?"

"I will not understand it," said Peter. "You cannot mean to destroy her
who now stands at the altar?"

"She who now stands at the altar must make way for a successor. She who
grasps the bridegroom's hand shall die. I swear it by the oath of my
tribe."

"And think you, you will be allowed to execute your murderous intention
with impunity?" shrieked Mrs. Mowbray, in an agony of terror. "Think you
that I will stand by and see my child slaughtered before my face; that
my friends will suffer it? Think you that even your own tribe will dare
to execute your horrible purpose? They will not. They will side with us.
Even now they murmur. What can you hope to gain by