"Wilfred here?" said Rowena, in disdain; "that is as true as that

Front-de-Boeuf is his rival."

De Bracy looked at her steadily for an instant.

"Wert thou really ignorant of this?" said he; "didst thou not know

that Wilfred of Ivanhoe travelled in the litter of the Jew?--a meet

conveyance for the crusader, whose doughty arm was to reconquer the Holy

Sepulchre!" And he laughed scornfully.

"And if he is here," said Rowena, compelling herself to a tone of

indifference, though trembling with an agony of apprehension which she

could not suppress, "in what is he the rival of Front-de-Boeuf? or what

has he to fear beyond a short imprisonment, and an honourable ransom,

according to the use of chivalry?"

"Rowena," said De Bracy, "art thou, too, deceived by the common error of

thy sex, who think there can be no rivalry but that respecting their own

charms? Knowest thou not there is a jealousy of ambition and of wealth,

as well as of love; and that this our host, Front-de-Boeuf, will push

from his road him who opposes his claim to the fair barony of Ivanhoe,

as readily, eagerly, and unscrupulously, as if he were preferred to him

by some blue-eyed damsel? But smile on my suit, lady, and the wounded

champion shall have nothing to fear from Front-de-Boeuf, whom else thou

mayst mourn for, as in the hands of one who has never shown compassion."

"Save him, for the love of Heaven!" said Rowena, her firmness giving way

under terror for her lover's impending fate.

"I can--I will--it is my purpose," said De Bracy; "for, when Rowena

consents to be the bride of De Bracy, who is it shall dare to put forth

a violent hand upon her kinsman--the son of her guardian--the companion

of her youth? But it is thy love must buy his protection. I am not

romantic fool enough to further the fortune, or avert the fate, of one

who is likely to be a successful obstacle between me and my wishes. Use

thine influence with me in his behalf, and he is safe,--refuse to employ

it, Wilfred dies, and thou thyself art not the nearer to freedom."

"Thy language," answered Rowena, "hath in its indifferent bluntness

something which cannot be reconciled with the horrors it seems to

express. I believe not that thy purpose is so wicked, or thy power so

great."

"Flatter thyself, then, with that belief," said De Bracy, "until

time shall prove it false. Thy lover lies wounded in this castle--thy

preferred lover. He is a bar betwixt Front-de-Boeuf and that which

Front-de-Boeuf loves better than either ambition or beauty. What will

it cost beyond the blow of a poniard, or the thrust of a javelin, to

silence his opposition for ever? Nay, were Front-de-Boeuf afraid to

justify a deed so open, let the leech but give his patient a wrong

draught--let the chamberlain, or the nurse who tends him, but pluck

the pillow from his head, and Wilfred in his present condition, is sped

without the effusion of blood. Cedric also--"




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