ed from
the ivy with a flap of her great wings, and sailed across the Berwen.

The worm-eaten door of the church stood wide open. Entering the aisle
with light footsteps, she approached the altar rails. The light was
very dim in the chancel, as every year the ivy grew thicker over the
windows. Surely in that dark corner within the rails some black object
stood, something blacker and darker than the shadow itself, and she
stood still for a moment, startled. Yes, there was a sound of heavy
breathing and the rustling of paper. She drew nearer, even close to
the altar rails, and, as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light,
she saw a man, who stooped over a musty, tattered book.

The sound of her footstep attracted his attention, and as he rose from
his stooping position, Valmai recognised the marble face and the black
eyebrows of the "Vicar du."

He was looking at one of the leaves in the old registry book, and for a
moment as he raised his eyes to the silent, white figure before the
altar, he took her for a ghostly visitant; but Valmai, with a sudden
inrush of recognition, clasped her hands, a faint exclamation escaped
her lips, and the "Vicare du" knew it was no spirit who stood trembling
before him. For a moment both were speechless--then pointing to the
page before him, he asked in a husky voice, "What is the meaning of
this?" and from beginning to end he read, with this strange hoarseness
in his voice, the entry of his son's marriage to Valmai. Not a word
escaped him, not even the date, nor the names of the witnesses. Then
he turned his black eyes upon her once more, and repeated his question.

"What is the meaning of this? I have heard of your shame, of your
dishonour--of the disgraceful way in which you have entrapped my poor
boy. But what is this farce enacted here? How dare you enter the
House of God and forge this ridiculous statement? Where is my son,
whom you have lured to destruction?"

Valmai was shaken like a reed by this sudden and unexpected meeting,
and the outburst of feeling exhibited by the "Vicare du" awoke in her
own heart such a tumult of doubt and suspense, that she could no longer
restrain the tears which for days she had kept in check; long, silent
sobs heaved her bosom, she covered her face with her hands, and the
tears trickled through her fingers, but she made no answer.

"Speak, girl," said the Vicar, "have you nothing to say for yourself?
no excuse to make for your condu