t of _her_, if _you_ are satisfied. She cannot judge so well
for herself as you can for her. She is a child, and knows not what she
loves. Her affection will soon be Luke's. He is a noble youth--the image
of his grandfather, your father, Sir Reginald; and if your daughter be
betrothed to any one, 'twas to the heir of Rookwood. That was an
essential part of the contract. Why should the marriage not take place
at once, and here?"

"Here! How were that possible?"

"You are within sacred walls. I will take you where an altar stands.
There is no lack of holy priest to join their hands together. Your
companion, Father Ambrose, as you call him, will do the office
fittingly. He has essayed his clerkly skill already on others of your
house."

"To what do you allude, mysterious woman?" asked Mrs. Mowbray, with
anxiety.

"To Sir Piers and Susan Bradley," returned Barbara. "That priest united
them."

"Indeed! He never told me this."

"He dared not do so; he had an oath which bound him to concealment. The
time is coming when greater mysteries will be revealed."

"'Tis strange I should not have heard of this before," said Mrs.
Mowbray, musingly; "and yet I might have guessed as much from his
obscure hints respecting Ranulph. I see it all now. I see the gulf into
which I might have been plunged; but I am warned in time. Father
Ambrose," continued she, to the priest, who was pacing the chamber at
some little distance from them, "is it true that my brother was wedded
by you to Susan Bradley?"

Ere the priest could reply the sexton presented himself.

"Ha, the very father of the girl!" said Mrs. Mowbray, "whom I met within
our family vault, and who was so strangely moved when I spoke to him of
Alan Rookwood. Is he here likewise?"

"Alan Rookwood!" echoed Barbara, upon whom a light seemed suddenly to
break; "ha! what said he of him?"

"Ill-boding raven," interposed Peter, fiercely, "be content with what
thou knowest of the living, and trouble not the repose of the dead. Let
them rest in their infamy."

"The dead!" echoed Barbara, with a chuckling laugh; "ha! ha! he is dead,
then; and what became of his fair wife--his brother's minion? 'Twas a
foul deed, I grant, and yet there was expiation. Blood flowed--blood----"

"Silence, thou night hag!" thundered Peter, "or I will have thee burned
at the stake for the sorcery thou practisest. Beware," added he, in a
deep tone--"I am thy friend."

Barbara's withered countenance exh