CHAPTER III.

So she remained, day after day, ever waiting for the bridegroom’s return, and dismally decking herself in what she took for marriage garments. Sometimes she would take a soldier walking on the ramparts for him she had lost. But she would soon discover her mistake, and then she would sit patiently waiting and gazing from the window.

When, too, the sound of drum or trumpet reached her ears, she would imagine herself again going through the terrible scene when she discovered Arthur’s flight.

Meanwhile, Captain Richard Forth held fast by his vow of vengeance; and, like a soldier, calmly waited for the hour of the fight.

The doctors who were called in to Elvira could give no hope; but one said that perhaps a sudden joy or grief might restore the lost reason.

On one of many days, the colonel was conversing with the captain, when the luckless girl wandered near them.

Her uncle addressed her kindly.

“Prithee, who art thou?” she made answer to the uncle she had loved so well.

“What!” said he, assuming a heart-breaking cheerfulness; “dost not know me Elvira?”

“Ah! truly, truly. He is waiting for me. Quick, quick! Thou wouldst not surely keep a bridegroom waiting. Quick--quick--quick.”

Then she perceived the stern puritan, Richard Forth, who was now weeping.

“Verily, ’tis a tear on thy face. Ah, thou, too, hast loved, and art forgotten. I love thee for thy lost love.”

It was on this occasion, after the lady had been induced to return to her apartment, that the colonel took the captain into his confidence.

“Thou must save this man.”

“How?--whom?”

“Lord Arthur Talbot.”

“Save Arthur Talbot? And again? It is not in my power to do so.”

“If thou couldst save him wouldst thou?”

“‘Twould be by death.”

“The flight was not Talbot’s fault alone; at least, ’twas as much the fault of his loyalty, for she was a royalist.”

“The arm that striketh him shall go unpunished. He is outlawed; he that will may kill him. He shall die.”

“Is thy vengeance justice, man? or is it jealousy? Again, the hand that shall slay him will also slay Elvira. Then thou shalt hear remorse whispering in the storm, and thy life will be a burden to thee. Forget this hate; forgive--mercy!”

For a little while the stern puritan held up his head. Then it fell.

“I will forget this hate--I will save him.”

“‘Tis the proof of thy patriotism, Richard.”

“If his heart be open--not if he cometh armed. Not if he bear arms against his country.”

“No, no--then no mercy, Richard, no mercy.”

“What if he were among the cavaliers now encamped near us, who, it is rumored, will attack us at daybreak?”

“His blood be on his own head. Let him perish.”