“My duty allows me no alternative,” rejoined the pursuivant, harshly. “If you will not admit me quietly, I must use force.”
“Do you know to whom you offer this rudeness?” returned Viviana. “I am the daughter of Sir William Radcliffe.”
“I know it,” replied the pursuivant; “but I am not exceeding my authority. I hold a warrant for your father's arrest. And, if he had not been from home, I should have carried him to prison along with the Jesuit priest whom, I suspect, is concealed within your chamber. Open the door, I command you; and do not hinder me in the execution of my duty.”
As no answer was returned to the application, the pursuivant commanded his men to burst open the door; and the order was promptly obeyed.
The chamber was empty.
On searching it, however, the pursuivant found a door concealed by the hangings of the bed. It was bolted on the other side, but speedily yielded to his efforts. Passing through it, he entered upon a narrow gallery, at the extremity of which his progress was stopped by another door, likewise fastened on the further side. On bursting it open, he entered a small oratory, wainscoted with oak, and lighted by an oriel window filled with stained glass, through which the newly-risen moon was pouring its full radiance, and discovered the object of his search.
“Father Oldcorne, I arrest you as a Jesuit and a traitor,” shouted the pursuivant, in a voice of exultation. “Seize him!” he added, calling to his men.
“You shall not take him,” cried Viviana, clinging despairingly to the priest, who offered no resistance, but clasped a crucifix to his breast.
“Leave go your hold, young mistress,” rejoined the pursuivant, grasping Oldcorne by the collar of his vestment, and dragging him along; “and rest thankful that I make you not, also, my prisoner.”
“Take me; but spare him!—in mercy spare him!” shrieked Viviana.