weren't in the position in which ye are now, Milly dear. But ye mustn't
encourage this young chap too much, for, bedad, Jack Costigan won't have
any thrilling with his daughter."

"No more will his daughter, papa, you may be sure of that," Milly said.
"A little sip more of the punch,--sure, 'tis beautiful. Ye needn't be
afraid about the young chap--I think I'm old enough to take care of
myself, Captain Costigan."

So Pen used to come day after day, rushing in and galloping away, and
growing more wild about the girl with every visit. Sometimes the Captain
was present at their meetings; but having a perfect confidence in his
daughter, he was more often inclined to leave the young couple to
themselves, and cocked his hat over his eye, and strutted off on some
errand when Pen entered. How delightful those interviews were! The
Captain's drawing-room was a low wainscoted room, with a large window
looking into the Dean's garden. There Pen sate and talked--and talked--
Emily, looking beautiful as she sate at her work--looking beautiful and
calm, and the sunshine came streaming in at the great windows, and
lighted up her superb face and form. In the midst of the conversation,
the great bell would begin to boom, and he would pause smiling, and be
silent until the sound of the vast music died away--or the rooks in the
cathedral elms would make a great noise towards sunset--or the sound of
the organ and the choristers would come over the quiet air, and gently
hush Pen's talking.

By the way, it must be said that Miss Fotheringay, in a plain shawl and a
close bonnet and veil, went to church every Sunday of her life,
accompanied by her indefatigable father, who gave the responses in a very
rich and fine brogue, joined in the psalms and chanting, and behaved in