Yes, there she was, in a front pew of the middle aisle, immediately under the pulpit.
To be sure he could only see the back of her head and shoulders, but he felt that he could not be mistaken.
And from that moment he paid but little attention to the service.
Do not mistake the poor soul. He was not impious. He had been religiously brought up in the family of the late Governor Cavendish. He was accustomed to be devout during divine worship. And on this occasion he wrestled with Satan—that is, with himself—and tried to fix his mind in succession on anthems, psalms, collects and sermon. All to little purpose. His mind went with his eyes toward Mary Grey.
And even when he closed those offending orbs he still found her image in his mind.
At length the sermon was finished and the benediction pronounced.
The congregation began to move out.
Craven Kyte went out among the first, and placed himself just outside the gate to wait until his adored should pass by.
In a continued stream the congregation poured forth out of the church until nearly all had passed out, but still he did not see Mary Grey.
In truth, that popularity-seeking beauty was lingering to bestow her sweet smile and honeyed words upon "all and sundry" who would give her the opportunity.