able. Apart from being cramped, Manners was uncomfortable
enough. He felt that it would have immensely relieved him to have
screamed, but he dared not do it. He wanted to cough, or sneeze, but
he had to repress his feelings. The place in which he was boxed up
was damp and humid, and the darkness in which he was enveloped was
oppressive. He could bear it no longer, and raising himself up he
groped around with his hands, and easily lifting a piece of the old
pulpit flooring, he looked up at Nicholas and groaned.

Nicholas involuntarily started at the sound, but recollecting the
voice, he screened his friend by his presence of mind. Without a
moment's pause he stopped and indulged in a prolonged fit of coughing,
while the little congregation, which had been startled by the groan,
attributed the noise to a premonitory symptom of the attack, and
thought no more about it.

"For mercy's sake, stop," muttered Manners. But the priest placidly
resumed his discourse, and drowned Manners' voice by his own.

The sand-glass, which was affixed to the pulpit desk to mark the limit
of the time allowed for the sermon, had long indicated that Father
Nicholas was trespassing upon the indulgence of his hearers before he
stopped; but it was over at last, and confession time had arrived.

Well knew the wily preacher that the second part of the service would
not be prolonged. Sir George had never much to confess while there
was a good meal awaiting him, and what Lady Maude would have said upon
such occasions was always cut short when the sermon had been long, and
was reserved for a more fitting occasion.

Neither Sir Thomas Stanley nor his brother ever stayed for confession.
They generally found some more attractive way of spending the time;
and as soon as they could do so they slipped out, heartily cursing the
long-winded priest, and wishing that Sir George were not, by far, so
good a Catholic.

Margaret stayed longer than the rest, and when her confession had
ceased she kept the father and took occasion to consult him about the
marriage ceremony.

She went at last, and then it was Dorothy's turn. The way was once
more open for the brave-hearted Manners to meet his betrothed again.

"Stop!" exclaimed Nicholas, as Manners eagerly kissed the maiden's
blushing cheek. "Let Mistress Dorothy perform her duty first."

There was no gainsaying this. The good father would not be argued
with, and so Dorothy bended her knee, and in humble penit