Sir Francis Mitchell has taken it into his head to rob him of his intended bride." "Ah! indeed!" exclaimed the jailer, with a laugh.

"The old dotard does not mean to marry her ?" "By my troth but he does--and the wedding is to be a grand one.

I will tell you more about it anon." At this moment Sir Jocelyn, who had hitherto remained with his eyes closed, uttered a cry of anguish, and again vainly endeavoured to raise himself.
"Aveline married to Sir Francis ?" he cried.

"Said you she was to be forced into a union with that hoary miscreant?
It must be prevented." "I see not how it can be, Sir Jocelyn," replied Luke Hatton, "since she is in the power of Sir Giles Mompesson.

Besides which, the 'hoary miscreant,' as you style him, will take means to ensure her acquiescence." "Means! what means ?" demanded Sir Jocelyn, writhing in agony.
"A love-potion," replied Luke Hatton, calmly, "I am about to prepare a philter for her, and will answer for its effect.