The confession, though well meant, was constrained and short.  The maiden was absent-minded, and though she would have entered into it with heart and soul, she found herself unable to bend her will, and even while confessing, her thoughts were fixed on her lover, whom she knew was impatiently waiting to embrace her as soon as she had finished her devotions.

“And now, my own peerless Doll,” said Manners, as she rose and came to him, “at last I may talk with thee once more.”

“Yes, John,” replied the maiden, “at last!  We have waited long for this.”

“Nicholas, you will listen and warn us if anyone approaches,” said Manners.

“I pray thee forget not that the time goes on apace,” replied the confessor.  “I will guard the door for thee.”

The lovers were alone; they were free to enjoy each other’s company for a little while, and in a short time the sound of eager conversation filled the room.

“Come, now, ’tis time,” broke in the priest, after a long pause.  “Sir George will be wondering at the long delay.”

“A minute more, Nicholas, a minute more,” was the excited reply.

“Now, Doll,” Manners appealed, “I have told you all.  What say you?”

“Not yet, John, not yet,” she demurely replied.

“O, say not so, Doll,” he pleaded, “they will never relent.”

“I cannot do it, John; indeed, I cannot.  I would refuse thee naught save this, but this I must refuse.”

Her lover looked at her sadly.  “Then we may not see each other again,” he said, “till thou art Lady Stanley.”

“Nay, nay,” she replied quickly, “I shall never be that.  My heart would break first.  I shall never be that.”

“Or I may be discovered, and—­and then, Doll, what?”

“O don’t, don’t say that,” she cried.  “You tear my heart.  I cannot do it, John; at least—­at least not now.”

“Mistress Dorothy, we must go now.  I cannot, I dare not tarry any longer,” said the priest as he came up and stood beside the lovers.  “We must go at once.”

“A minute more, just a minute, Nicholas.”

“Nay,” he replied, “we must not linger any more.”

“Go, then, I will follow thee,” said Dorothy, and taking her at her word the father bowed himself low before the little altar and departed.

“Not yet,” said Manners, “you cannot yet!  Doll, it must come to this, and why not do it now?”

“Nay, nay, John, ask me not.  I cannot, I cannot do it.  Adieu, we shall meet again soon, trust me till then”; and giving him a farewell kiss, she left him alone and hastened into the Hall.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The Angels of life and death.

                     He said no more,
  For at that instant flashed the glare,
    And with a hoarse, infernal roar,
  A blaze went up and filled the air! 
    Rafters, and stones, and bodies rose
  In one quick gush of blinding flame,
    And down, and down, amidst the dark,
  Hurling on every side they came.