lain and
modest. The rain dripped from his red hair and the bit of mustachio
that he wore on his upper lip. His quick, sharp eye noted the men and
women that sat apart, and then turned like a flash upon the woman in
the pulpit.

As Constance saw the man full in the face, there was a bathos in her
zeal, and she stopped, open-mouthed, and closed the book.

Neither Buckingham nor Monmouth could see the countenance of him that
entered, so they held quiet and wondered at her ladyship's behaviour.
Katherine had bent her head upon the back of the seat.

The tall man proceeded up the aisle, his eyes upon the titled woman
whose face was now covered with a genuine blush. For the first time in
her life she felt ashamed. She felt a presence near her that was not
altogether of this earth's mould.

At last regaining a semblance of her usual _aplomb_, she stepped from
the pulpit and made toward the door, where others were entering. She
looked back when half-way down the aisle and beckoned to the others of
her party to follow. As she did so, there came from the pulpit a voice
so rich and sweet, so penetrating the soul, the woman trembled and
listened.

It was the "Kyrie Eleison" sung in a new tune with clear, strong
English words, and they rung and rung in Constance' ears, as they
continued to do for the rest of her days.

"He is a Ranter. Let us stay and hear him?" Monmouth said.

"Nay," said Katherine; "I am without covering for my head. Let's
begone, the meeting is gathering. What a glory is in his countenance,
and his voice is like music!"

"The lack of a bonnet need not hinder. Thou art a lady and
privileged."

"Nay, nay. I would know who he is?" Monmouth plucked the sleeve of
a passer-by and inquired. The man answered with a question put in a
whisper,--

"Hast never read 'Pilgrim's Progress'?" The Duke threw back a glance
at the form in the pulpit, then strode forward and jumped into the
chaise.

CHAPTER XXII

TELLS OF THE DOINGS OF ALL CONCERNED

The house stood surrounded by a beautiful lawn that sloped gradually
to the river. Trees in full leaf and woody perennial plants in full
blossom, dotted the sward. The long, low stone building was covered
with vines that hung in rich purple bloom. All was quiet, refined,
subdued--without pomp. Not so was the chief inmate of this charming
abode. She stood gowned in filmy white, waiting for Janet to spread
her repast, but the nurse moved at leisure, resolving to