“Lady Bray was re-adjusting her brown gauntlets, and about to depart, when Colonel Temple sauntered into the room with a hound at his heels, which immediately began to caress the young lady.
“‘A penny for your thoughts, lady,’ said he, laughing. ‘There, don’t look so cross, pet, or I shall imagine we are not friends.’
“‘I’m not cross, uncle; but you know it is so provoking to be disappointed.’
“‘Well, well, pet, cheer up! When the college breaks up for the season, we’ll have plenty of fishing and hunting, and picnics without end. I didn’t know that Clare was out until you inquired—gone visiting some poor folks, I suppose, as usual. At church! Well, well, what a girl she is. She’ll soon be back again.’
“‘No, I’m sure she won’t, uncle, if she’s gone to church, for she’s the greatest girl for praying I ever saw.’
“‘I know it’s all very admirable in one’s character,’ said young Lady Emma, moving about the apartment, and arranging her disordered hair in the mirror; ‘but I could not kneel so long as Clare does—no, not for all the world. Come, uncle, you mustn’t laugh and go away in that manner; I want you to escort me to the parade this evening. I’m sure you’ll not refuse—besides, we shall be sure to meet Clare. I’ll go into the cathedral and fetch her, if we don’t meet her on the way. I know where to find her; in a snug little pew, shut out from all observation.’
“As blue-eyed, oval-faced Emma, with her radiant looks and careless manner, took the old colonel’s arm, and proceeded, with laugh and joke, through the forest-path towards the small town lying in the valley, they soon came to the cathedral, and the colonel stopped.
“The great door being slightly ajar, Emma stepped lightly in, and its quiet calm and beauty arrested her hurried, impetuous gait.
“Evening service was over.
“The sinking sun shed its rays through stained-glass windows, and streams of blue, white, orange, purple, and pink fell in varied beauty upon its doric columns and tiled floors.