"Our honor demands his instant liberation; each moment he remains in those bonds sullies its purity. I will free him myself from his fetters."
"And brave my curse, foolish boy? You incurred your miserable father's anathema for a lighter cause than this. Our honor cries aloud for his destruction. Have I not been injured in the nicest point a woman can be injured? Shall I lend my name to mockery and scorn, by base acknowledgment of such deceit, or will you? Where would be my honor, then, stripped of my fair estates—my son—myself—beggars—dependent on the bounty of an upstart? Does honor ask you to bear this? It is a phantom sense of honor, unsubstantial as your father's shade, of which you just now spoke, that would prompt you to do otherwise."
"Do not evoke his awful spirit, mother," cried Ranulph, with a shudder; "do not arouse his wrath."
"Do not arouse my wrath," returned Lady Rookwood. "I am the more to be feared. Think of Eleanor Mowbray; the bar between your nuptials is removed. Would you raise up a greater impediment?"
"Enough, mother; more than enough. You have decided, though not convinced me. Detain him within the house, if you will, until the morrow; in the meantime, I will consider over my line of conduct."
"Is this, then, your resolve?"
"It is. Mr. Coates," said Ranulph, calling the attorney, who had been an inquisitive spectator, though, luckily, not an auditor of this interview, "unbind the prisoner, and bring him hither."
"Is it your ladyship's pleasure?" asked Mr. Coates, who regretted exceedingly that he could not please both parties.
Lady Rookwood signified her assent by a slight gesture in the affirmative.
"Your bidding shall be done, Sir Ranulph," said Coates, bowing and departing.