"O, if this tale be true, I have no escape from misery!" exclaimed Aveline. "And it wears the semblance of probability."
"I take upon me to declare it to be false," cried Anthony Rocke.
"Another such insolent speech shall cost thee thy life, sirrah!" cried Sir Giles, fiercely.
"Read over the paper again, my dear young lady," said Dame Sherborne. "You may, perhaps, find something in it not yet discovered, which may help you to a better understanding of your father's wishes."
"Ay, read it!—read it!" cried the old usurer, giving her the paper. "You will perceive in what energetic terms your father enjoins compliance on your part with his commands; and what awful denunciations he attaches to your disobedience. Read it, I say, and fancy he is speaking to you from the grave in these terms—'Take this man for thy husband, O my daughter, and take my blessing with him. Reject him, and my curse shall alight upon thy head.'"
But Aveline was too much engrossed to heed him. Suddenly her eye caught something she had not previously noticed, and she exclaimed,—"I have detected the stratagem. I knew this authority could never be committed to you."
"What mean you, fair mistress?" cried Sir Francis, surprised and alarmed. "My name may not appear upon the face of the document; but, nevertheless, I am the person referred to by it."
"The document itself disproves your assertion," cried Aveline, with exultation.
"How so?" demanded Sir Giles, uneasily.
"Why, see you not that he to whom my father designed to give my hand was named Osmond Mounchensey?"