“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 forever? 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—”

“And Cedric also,” said Rowena, repeating his words; “my noble⁠—my generous guardian! I deserved the evil I have encountered, for forgetting his fate even in that of his son!”

“Cedric’s fate also depends upon thy determination,” said De Bracy; “and I leave thee to form it.”