Helbeck's engagement had sent a thrill of pain through a large section of
the Catholic world; and the Jesuit had already divined a hostile force in
the small and brilliant creature whose eyes had scanned him so coldly as
she sat beside the Squire. He fell into a reverie, and took one or two
turns up and down the room.

"Shall I?" he said to himself in an excitement that was half vanity, half
religion.

* * * * *

Half an hour later Laura was in the oriel window of the drawing-room,
looking out through the open casement at the rising of a golden moon
above the fell. Her mind was full of confusion.

"Is he never to be free to say what he thinks and feels in his own
house?" she asked herself passionately. "Or am I to sit by and see him
sink to the level of these bigots?"

Augustina was upstairs, and Laura, absorbed in her own thoughts and the
night loveliness of the garden, did not hear Helbeck and Mr. Williams
enter the room, which was as usual but dimly lighted. Suddenly she caught
the words:

"So you still keep her? That's good! One could not imagine this room
without her."

The voice was the voice of the Jesuit, but in a new tone--more eager,
more sincere. What were they talking of?--the picture? And she, Laura, of
course was hidden from them by the heavy curtain half drawn across the