The same Easter Day at Padley was another matter altogether.

As early as five o'clock in the morning the house was astir: lights
glimmered in upper rooms; footsteps passed along corridors and across
the court; parties began to arrive. All was done without ostentation,
yet without concealment, for Padley was a solitary place, and had no
fear, at this time, of a sudden descent of the authorities. For form's
sake--scarcely for more--a man kept watch over the valley road, and
signalled by the flashing of a lamp twice every party with which he was
acquainted, and there were no others than these to signal. A second man
waited by the gate into the court to admit them. They rode and walked in
from all round--great gentlemen, such as the North Lees family, came
with a small retinue; a few came alone; yeomen and farm servants, with
their women-folk, from the Hathersage valley, came for the most part on
foot. Altogether perhaps a hundred and twenty persons were within Padley
Manor--and the gate secured--by six o'clock.

Meanwhile, within, the priest had been busy since half-past four with
the hearing of confessions. He sat in the chapel beside the undecked
altar, and they came to him one by one. The household and a few of the
nearer neighbours had done their duty in this matter the day before, and
a good number had already made their Easter duties earlier in Lent; so
by six o'clock all was finished.

Then began the bustle.

A group of ladies, FitzHerberts and Fentons, entered, so soon as the
priest gave the signal by tapping on the parlour wall, bearing all
things necessary for the altar; and it was astonishing what fine things
these were; so that by the time that the priest was ready to vest, the