there?"

"Ask of Sir Piers! ask of her _husband_!" shouted Luke, with a wild
burst of exulting laughter. "Ha! ha! ha! 'tis a wedding-ring! And look!
the finger is bent. It must have been placed upon it in her lifetime.
There is no deception in this--no trickery--ha!"

"It would seem not; the sinew must have been contracted in life. The
tendons are pulled down so tightly, that the ring could not be withdrawn
without breaking the finger."

"You are sure that coffin contains her body?"

"As sure as I am that this carcass is my own."

"The hand--'tis hers. Can any doubt exist?"

"Wherefore should it? It was broken from the arm by accident within this
moment. I noticed not the occurrence, but it must have been so."

"Then it follows that she was wedded, and I am not----"

"Illegitimate. For your own sake I am glad of it."

"My heart will burst. Oh! could I but establish the fact of this
marriage, her wrongs would be indeed avenged."

"Listen to me, Luke," said the sexton, solemnly. "I told you, when I
appointed this midnight interview, I had a secret to communicate. That
secret is now revealed--that secret was your mother's marriage."

"And it was known to you during her lifetime?"

"It was. But I was sworn to secrecy."

"You have proofs then?"

"I have nothing beyond Sir Piers's word--and he is silent now."

"By whom was the ceremony performed?"

"By a Romish priest--a Jesuit--one Father Checkley, at that time an
inmate of the hall; for Sir Piers, though he afterwards abjured it, at
that time professed the Catholic faith, and this Checkley officiated as
his confessor and counsellor; as the partner of his pleasures, and the
prompter of his iniquities. He was your father's evil genius."

"Is he still alive?"

"I know not. After your mother's death he left the hall. I have said he
was a Jesuit, and I may add, that he was mixed up in dark political
intrigues, in which your father was too feeble a character to take much
share. But though too weak to guide, he was a pliant instrument, and
this Checkley knew. He moulded him according to his wishes. I cannot
tell you what was the nature of their plots. Suffice it, they were such
as, if discovered, would have involved your father in ruin. He was
saved, however, by his wife."

"And her reward----" groaned Luke.

"Was death," replied Peter, coldly. "What Jesuit ever forgave a
wrong--real or imaginary? Your mother, I ought to have said, was a
Protestant. Hence