ved himself their
friend.

The limited number that the chapel could accommodate took their places
long before the vesper bell stopped ringing, and when Sir George came
in, bringing in with him the Lady Maude, and followed by his daughters
and the two guests, there was a large concourse of disappointed
worshippers outside who were bent on remaining as near the sacred
edifice as they might get. Though they were denied admittance, they
would hear the solemn chant as it sounded through the open windows,
and they felt that they would fall under the same sacred influence as
those who were inside; and whilst these latter were favoured by the
hallowing influences of the sanctuary, they were compensated for this
by the rustling of the leaves, which seemed to moan in sympathy with
them as the wind swept gently by.

Of all who mourned the loss of the father--and there were many who
regretted that he was taken from their midst--none was more sincere in
her grief than Dorothy, and none apparently was so little affected by
the loss as Margaret.

This maiden had watched the growing familiarity of the intercourse
between her sister and John Manners with no friendly eyes. She had
perceived that it was necessary to take action at once in the matter,
and at her express command her lover was even now on a mission to his
brother to secure the double alliance between the two houses of Vernon
and Stanley, upon which she and Lady Vernon had set their minds.

The absence of Sir Thomas had intensified her feelings in the matter,
and seeing Manners leading Dorothy out of the sick man's chamber with
his arm interlinked with hers, it had goaded her to such a frenzy
that, regardless of the inopportunity of the time, she had proceeded
straightway to Sir George and Lady Maude and had laid the matter
before them in a most unfavourable light.

And now, as the impressive requiem was about to be sung--a dirge full
of soul-stirring reflections and sacred grandeur--Margaret's head
was full of bitterness, and she failed to respond to the sympathetic
sublimity of the service, or to notice its serene beauty either. To
her it was nothing more than a tiresome form; her interest was centred
on Dorothy alone, and she heartily condemned herself for not arranging
that. Dorothy should not sit beside the esquire. It was a dreary and
unpleasant time to her, and when she raised her eyes from her
sister it was only impatiently to watch the deepening shades of the