"I know," he said in a whisper, "who this person is, he has, or shall soon have, as deep cause of mourning as ourselves; leave me to deal with him, and do not disturb the ceremony by unnecessary exposure." So saying, he separated himself from the group of his relations, and taking the unknown mourner by the cloak, he said to him, in a tone of suppressed emotion, "Follow me." The stranger, as if starting from a trance at the sound of his voice, mechanically obeyed, and they ascended the broken ruinous stair which led from the sepulchre into the churchyard.

The other mourners followed, but remained grouped together at the door of the vault, watching with anxiety the motions of Colonel Ashton and the stranger, who now appeared to be in close conference beneath the shade of a yew-tree, in the most remote part of the burial-ground.
To this sequestered spot Colonel Ashton had guided the stranger, and then turning round, addressed him in a stern and composed tone.--"I cannot doubt that I speak to the Master of Ravenswood ?" No answer was returned.

"I cannot doubt," resumed the Colonel, trembling with rising passion, "that I speak to the murderer of my sister!" "You have named me but too truly," said Ravenswood, in a hollow and tremulous voice.
"If you repent what you have done," said the Colonel, "may your penitence avail you before God; with me it shall serve you nothing.
Here," he said, giving a paper, "is the measure of my sword, and a memorandum of the time and place of meeting.

Sunrise to-morrow morning, on the links to the east of Wolf's Hope." The Master of Ravenswood held the paper in his hand, and seemed irresolute.

At length he spoke--"Do not," he said, "urge to farther desperation a wretch who is already desperate.