Bernard’s bosom swelled as he gazed upon her, and his manly features, which had just before been flushed with rage, assumed a softer expression, and beamed with tenderness and sympathy.
“Which of ye hath done this?” he cried, pointing at Evaline.
Don Felix, who had hitherto been perfectly passive, here stepped forward a pace, and interposed.
“By what right, Sir, dost thou ask?” he demanded. “Nay, by what right art thou here at all?”
“Hold thee quiet, Sir Spaniard!” answered Bernard. “I could approve my right, an’ it so contented me, out of hand, and on no other person than thine own.”
Don Felix started.
“Whoever thou mayst be,” cried Sir Edgar, stepping in to his kinsman’s rescue, “it is but meet”—
“Give me leave a while,” interrupted Bernard. “’Tis with thee I would speak, Mistress de Neville. I ask thee here, afore God and man, is this marriage to proceed?”
He paused for a reply; but Evaline, whether she was sensible of what he said, or not, was silent as marble.
“Is the marriage to proceed, mistress?” repeated Bernard.