and started on. The light beyond had paled as dawn broke. They were
once more upon the causeway, and the horses' feet beating with loud
and even step upon the wet road.

Constance had calmed, and with the other occupants slept through the
long delay. Nor did she wake until they had entered a thick wood where
the branches of the trees swept tumultuously against the window. Then
she opened her eyes with a start and saw Katherine still sleeping,
her head pillowed on Janet's bosom. Her limbs were stiff from their
cramped position. Vainly she essayed to stretch, and cried out as a
rheumatic pain took her. She swore roundly and vowed she would alight
at the first hut they should come upon.

It seemed hours before they came to a long, low stone building,
evidently an old-time lodge. It was covered with ivy that trembled and
glistened in the wind and rain.

The chaises stopped at the door, which was thrown open by an outrider
who knocked up the locker with his whip handle.

The opening disclosed great, high-backed pews and an altar and pulpit.
It was indeed a place of refuge to the weary travellers. It was dry
and clean and afforded rest. Katherine stepped inside first, and
immediately knelt and crossed herself. Monmouth did the same, knowing
that the maid's eyes were upon him.

They took seats not far from the altar and settled themselves
comfortably; for the servants had gone to find food and fresh horses.

Katherine was stirred by the sacredness of the day and place, and
took little part in the conversation that was becoming more and more
animated, as the Dukes and Constance drank heavily of wine brought
from Monmouth's box in the chaise. And when meat, bread and cheese
were brought and more wine was drank, her ladyship became maudlin and
cast her eye about for diversion.

It fell upon the pulpit, and she tripped up to it, passing over the
sacred altar in vulgar _insouciance_.

It pained Katherine to see the place so lightly esteemed, and she gave
a little cry of "Oh!" as Constance threw open the Bible and began to
preach in mockery of the Methody parson.

Buckingham's face was as stolid as Janet's; Monmouth's bearing a smile
that was bastard of mirth.

Hardly was her ladyship started, when a tall form, strong boned and
sinewy, strode through the open door. His ruddy face disclosed what
appeared to be a stern and rough temper. His forehead was high; his
nose well set over a mouth moderately large. His habit was p