ould not help telling you that my fathers fought
at Azincourt, though I was only the overlooker at Mr Trafford's mill."

"A good old name of the good old faith," said the Religious; "and a
blessing be on it."

"We have cause to bless it," said Gerard. "I thought it then something
to serve a gentleman; and as for my daughter, she, by their goodness,
was brought up in holy walls, which have made her what she is."

"Nature made her what she is," said Stephen in a low voice, and speaking
not without emotion. Then he continued, in a louder and brisker tone,
"But this Hatton--you know nothing of his whereabouts?"

"Never heard of him since. I had indeed about a year after my father's
death, cause to enquire after him; but he had quitted Mowbray, and none
could give me tidings of him. He had lived I believe on our law-suit,
and vanished with our hopes."

After this, there was silence; each was occupied with his thoughts,
while the influence of the soft night and starry hour induced to
contemplation.

"I hear the murmur of the train," said the Religious.

"'Tis the up-train," said her father. "We have yet a quarter of an hour;
we shall be in good time."

So saying, he guided the pony to where some lights indicated the station
of the railway, which here crossed the moor. There was just time to
return the pony to the person at the station from whom it had been
borrowed, and obtain their tickets, when the bell of the down-train
sounded, and in a few minutes the Religious and her companions were on
their way to Mowbray, whither a course of two hours carried them.

It was two hours to midnight when they arrived at Mowbray station, which
was about a quarter of a mile from the town. Labour had long ceased; a
beautiful heaven, clear and serene, canopied the city of smoke and toil;
in all directions rose the columns of the factories, dark and defined
in the purple sky; a glittering star sometimes hovering by the crest of
their tall and tapering forms.

The travellers proceeded in the direction of a suburb and approached the
very high wall of an extensive garden. The moon rose as they reached it,
tipped the trees with light, and revealed a lofty and centre portal,
by the side of it a wicket at which Gerard rang. The wicket was quickly
opened.

"I fear, holy sister," said the Religious, "that I am even later than I
promised."

"Those that come in our lady's name are ever welcome," was the reply.

"Sister Marion," said Gera