“This must not be,” returned Catesby. “Such an act at this juncture would be madness, and would materially injure our cause. Whatever your inclinations may prompt, you must consent to remain in safety, madam.”
“I have acquiesced in your proceedings thus far,” replied Viviana, “because I could not oppose them without injury to those dear to me. But I will take no further share in them. My mind is made up as to the course I shall pursue.”
“Since you are bent upon your own destruction,—for it is nothing less,—it is the duty of your friends to save you,” rejoined Catesby. “You shall not do what you propose, and when you are yourself again, and have recovered from the shock your feelings have sustained, you will thank me for my interference.”
“You are right, Catesby,” observed Sir Everard; “it would be worse than insanity to allow her to destroy herself thus.”
“I am glad you are of this opinion,” said Garnet. “I tried to reason her out of her design, but without avail.”
“Catesby,” cried Viviana, throwing herself at his feet, “by the love you once professed for me,—by the friendship you entertained for him who unhesitatingly offered himself for you, and your cause, I implore you not to oppose me now!”
“I shall best serve you, and most act in accordance with the wishes of my friend, by doing so,” replied Catesby. “Therefore, you plead in vain.”
“Alas!” cried Viviana. “My purposes are ever thwarted. You will have to answer for my life.”
“I should, indeed, have it to answer for, if I permitted you to act as you desire,” rejoined Catesby. “I repeat you will thank me ere many days are passed.”
“Sir Everard,” exclaimed Viviana, appealing to the knight, “I entreat you to have pity upon me.”