CHAPTER V.

A POINT OF FAITH.

Left alone, Atherton endeavoured to reconcile himself to his imprisonment, but with very indifferent success.

How he longed to join the party downstairs--to go forth into the garden or the park--to do anything, in short, rather than remain shut up in those gloomy rooms! But stay there he must!--so he amused himself as well as he could by looking into the cupboards with which the rooms abounded.

In the course of his examination he found some books, and with these he contrived to beguile the time till old Markland made his appearance.

The old butler brought with him a well-filled basket, from which he produced the materials of a very good cold dinner, including a flask of wine; and a cloth being spread upon a small table in the room we have described as less gloomy than the other apartments, the young man sat down to the repast.

"I have had some difficulty in bringing you these provisions, sir," observed Markland. "Father Jerome has been playing the spy upon me all the morning--hovering about my room, so that I couldn't stir without running against him. Whether he heard anything last night I can't say, but I'm sure he suspects you are hidden in the house."

"What if he does suspect, Markland?" observed Atherton. "Do you think he would betray me? If you believe so, you must have a very bad opinion of him."

"I can tell you one thing, sir; he was far from pleased when he heard of your escape, and wished it had been Captain Dawson instead. I told him I thought you might seek refuge here, and he said he hoped not; adding, 'If you were foolish enough to do so you would certainly be discovered.' I repeated these observations to Miss Rawcliffe, and she agreed with me that they argued an ill-feeling towards you."

"What can I have done to offend him?" exclaimed Atherton.

"I don't know, sir, except that you are heir to the property. But give yourself no uneasiness. I will take care he shan't harm you. Don't on any account leave these rooms till you see me again."

"Has Father Jerome access to this part of the house, Markland?"

"No; I keep the door of the gallery constantly locked; and he is not aware of the secret entrance to the library."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Quite sure, sir. I never heard him allude to it."

"He is frequently in the library, I understand?"

"Yes, he sits there for hours; but he generally keeps in his own room in the evening, and you might then come down with safety. Have you everything you require at present?"

"Everything. You have taken excellent care of me, Markland."

"I am sorry I can't do better. I'll return by-and-by to take away the things."

With this he departed, and Atherton soon made an end of his meal.

Time seemed to pass very slowly, but at length evening arrived, and the butler reappeared.

"You will find Miss Rawcliffe in the library," he said, "and need fear no interruption, for Father Jerome is with Mrs. Butler. I shall be on the watch, and will give timely notice should any danger arise."

Instantly shaking off the gloom that had oppressed him, Atherton set off. The butler accompanied him to the head of the private staircase, but went no further. Though all was buried in darkness, the young man easily found his way to the secret door, and cautiously stepped into the library.

Lights placed upon the table showed him that Constance was in the room, and so noiselessly had he entered, that she was not aware of his presence till he moved towards her. She then rose from the sofa to meet him, and was clasped to his breast. Need we detail their converse? It was like all lovers' talk--deeply interesting to the parties concerned, but of little interest to any one else. However, we must refer to one part of it. They had been speaking of their prospects of future happiness, when he might be able to procure a pardon from the Government and return to Rawcliffe--or she might join him in France.

"But why should our union be delayed?" he cried. "Why should we not be united before my departure?"

"'Tis too soon after my unhappy father's death," she replied. "I could not show such disrespect to his memory."

"But the marriage would be strictly private, and consequently there could be no indecorum. You can remain here for awhile, and then rejoin me. I shall be better able to endure the separation when I feel certain you are mine."

"I am yours already--linked to you as indissolubly as if our hands had been joined at the altar. But the ceremony cannot be performed at present. Our faiths are different. Without a dispensation from a bishop of the Church of Rome, which could not be obtained here, no Romish priest would unite us. But were Father Jerome willing to disobey the canons of the Church, I should have scruples."

"You never alluded to such scruples before."

"I knew not of the prohibition. I dare not break the rules of the Church I belong to."

"But you say that a license can be procured," he cried eagerly.

"Not here," she rejoined; "and this would be a sufficient reason for the delay, if none other existed. Let us look upon this as a trial to which we must submit, and patiently wait for happier days, when all difficulties may be removed."

"You do not love me as much as I thought you did, Constance," he said, in a reproachful tone. "'Tis plain you are under the influence of this malicious and designing priest."

"Do not disquiet yourself," she rejoined, calmly. "Father Jerome has no undue influence over me, and could never change my sentiments towards you. I admit that he is not favourably disposed towards our union, and would prevent it if he could, but he is powerless."

"I shall be miserable if I leave him with you, Constance. He ought to be driven from the house."

"I cannot do that," she rejoined. "But depend upon it he shall never prejudice me against you."

Little more passed between them, for Constance did not dare to prolong the interview.