sped in hand, the young lovers
knelt and silently prayed for God's blessing.

As they rose, Griselda looked round, and a blast of chill air came over
her from the opening of a side door. She shuddered, and said:

"How cold it is!"

"Yes; cold and damp. Let us hasten out into the sunshine."

"Who opened that door?" she said.

"Some old woman, I dare say, who comes to dust and clean," he answered,
as they walked down the nave, surrounded, as it there was, with many
tombs, and the walls crowded with tablets in memory of the dead.

Lady Jane Waller's stately monument, and Bishop Montague's, were then,
as now, conspicuous; and Griselda paused for a moment by the recumbent
figure of the Lady Jane.

As she did so, a figure, well known and dreaded, was seen coming from
behind the monument.

Griselda clasped Leslie Travers's arm with both hands, and said:

"Let us hasten away--we are watched."

But Leslie turned, and faced Sir Maxwell Danby.

"The shadow of the church is a better trysting-place than the shelter of
the dwellings in Crown Alley," he said, hissing the words out in what
was hardly more than a whisper.

Leslie was on the point of retorting angrily, when he controlled
himself:

"This is not the time and place," he said, "to demand an apology for
your words, Sir Maxwell Danby. I will seek it elsewhere."

But Griselda clung to his arm, and tried to advance towards the side
door to get away from the man, who had dogged her steps.

"Come--come, I pray you," she said; "do not stay."

And Leslie Travers, saying in low but decided tones, "I will seek
satisfaction elsewhere," let the door swing behind him, and he and
Griselda passed out of the dim Abbey into the sunshine.

It was still bright and beautiful without, and the fair city lay under
the shadow of the encircling hills, which were touched with the glory of
a brilliant winter's day.

A slight fall of snow had defined the outline of church and houses, and
the leafless trees were sparkling with ten thousand diamonds on their
branches.

The keen, crisp wind had dried the footways, and there was nothing on
the smooth-paved roads to make walking anything but delightful.

"I want to take you to my mother now," Leslie said. "Will you come?"

"Will she be kind to me?" Griselda asked. "Do you think she will be
kind to me?"

"Kind! Pride in you is more likely to be her feeling, I should venture
to say."

"But," Griselda said, casting anxious looks b