"
"Spare me, Mr. Ratcliffe," replied the luckless bride; "and from the
state in which you see me, judge of the cruelty of these questions."
"Married? to Sir Frederick Langley? and this night? It must not
cannot--shall not be."
"It MUST be, Mr. Ratcliff, or my father is ruined."
"Ah! I understand," answered Ratcliffe; "and you have sacrificed
yourself to save him who--But let the virtue of the child atone for the
faults of the father it is no time to rake them up.--What CAN be done?
Time presses--I know but one remedy--with four-and-twenty hours I might
find many--Miss Vere, you must implore the protection of the only human
being who has it in his power to control the course of events which
threatens to hurry you before it."
"And what human being," answered Miss Vere, "has such power?"
"Start not when I name him," said Ratcliffe, coming near her, and
speaking in a low but distinct voice. "It is he who is called Elshender
the Recluse of Mucklestane-Moor."
"You are mad, Mr.
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