“Viviana, is this true?” asked Chetham. “Does your father object to your union with me?”
Viviana answered by a deep sigh, and gently withdrew her hand from the young merchant's grasp.
“Then there is no hope for me?” cried Chetham.
“Alas! no,” replied Viviana; “nor for me—of earthly affection. I am already dead to the world.”
“How so?” he asked.
“I am about to vow myself to Heaven,” she answered.
“Viviana!” exclaimed the young man, throwing himself at her feet, “reflect!—oh! reflect, before you take this fatal—this irrevocable step.”
“Rise, sir,” interposed the priest, sternly; “you plead in vain. Sir William Radcliffe will never wed his daughter to a heretic. In his name I command you to desist from further solicitation.”
“I obey,” replied Chetham, rising.
“We lose time here,” observed Guy Fawkes, who had been lost for a moment in reflection. “I will undertake to provide for your safety, father. But, what must be done with Viviana? She cannot be left here. And her return to the hall would be attended with danger.”