e
gentleman, and get me to be his gamekeeper. I'd liever be your goodman's
gamekeeper than king of England."

He was proceeding with vast volubility to enumerate his qualifications
for that confidential post, when the lady cut him short, and told him to
go and get his supper in the kitchen, for she was wanted elsewhere. He
made a scrape, and clattered away with his hobnailed shoes.

Kate went to the hall window and opened it, and let the cold air blow
over her face.

Her heart was touched, and her bosom filled with pity for her old
sweetheart.

How hard she had been. She had sided with Neville against the wounded
man. And she thought how sadly and patiently he had submitted to her
decision,--and a bullet in his poor arm all the time.

The gentle bosom heaved, and heaved, and the tears began to run.

* * * * *

She entered the dining-room timidly, expecting some comment on her
discourteous absence. Instead of that, both her father and her director
rose respectfully, and received her with kind and affectionate looks.
They then pressed her to eat this and that, and were remarkably
attentive and kind. She could see that she was deep in their good books.
This pleased her; but she watched quietly, after the manner of her sex,
to learn what it was all about. Nor was she left long in the dark.
Remarks were made that hit her, though they were none of them addressed
to her.

Father Francis delivered quite a little homily on Obedience, and said
how happy a thing it was, when zeal, a virtue none too common in these
degenerate days, was found tempered by humility, and subservient to
ghostly counsel and authority.

Mr. Peyton dealt in no general topics of that kind; his discourse was
secular: it ran upon Neville's Cross, Neville's Court, and the
Baronetcy; and he showed Francis how and why this title must sooner or
later come to George Neville and the heirs of his body.

Francis joined in this topic for a while, but speedily diverged into
what might be called a collateral theme. He described to Kate a
delightful spot on the Neville estate, where a nunnery might be built
and endowed by any good Catholic lady having zeal, and influence with
the owner of the estate, and with the lord-lieutenant of the county.

"It is three parts an island, (for the river Wey curls round it
lovingly,) but backed by wooded slopes that keep off the north and east
winds: a hidden and balmy place, such as the fore