My first impulse on seeing the house was to go boldly up to the door and ask for Naomi Penryn, but a second's reflection told me that such an act would be madness. I remembered the words of Parson Thomas. This house was the property of a man widely known and respected, and while it was given over to Papist ways and usages, I could not ask questions as though it were a public institution. My brain, slow to work as it was, told me that I must act warily, and in such a way as to arouse as little suspicion as possible. On looking back over my plan of action, however, I can see how foolish I was, and how, but for the kind providence of God, I did that which was calculated to frustrate the dearest desire of my heart.
This, however, is what I did. I waited for some few minutes in a state of indecision, then it occurred to me that I had better find an inn, so that I might leave Eli in a place of safety, and on looking round I quickly found a kiddleywink. Here I left Eli, and after telling the landlady to cook some supper, I again went back to the front of the old Manor House. Fearing to be seen, I wandered around the place, and saw that the walls around the garden were over fifteen feet high, and that from no position could I look over, except by climbing one of the huge trees that grew in the near distance. Never in my life had I realised the meaning of silence as I realised it then. Not a breath of wind stirred, and beyond the sound of the brook as it rippled down the valley, nothing was to be heard. To me it seemed like the home of the dead. "How can I discover what is behind those walls?" I asked myself, but no answer was forthcoming.
Twice did I walk around the house and gardens, and was about to go back to the inn again, when I heard the sound of singing. I listened intently, and discovered that the singers were within the Manor House, and from the number of voices and the nature of the singing, I concluded that the inmates were taking part in some religious service. I stood like one entranced, for the music was very sweet, and it seemed to my excited imagination that Naomi's voice mingled with the rest. Presently it died away, and I heard the sound of footsteps. But there was no loud voices or confusion, neither was there any laughter; all was quiet, orderly, and subdued.
The night was not dark, for the clouds which hung so heavily in the sky during the morning had been swept away, and innumerable stars shone brightly.
As I watched, I saw a man, who, from his garb, I took to be a priest. I went up to him and saw that I was right in my surmise.
"I am a stranger to these parts," I said, "and have travelled far to-day. May I ask if this is a monastery or religious house?"
"No, young man, it is not a monastery, but the house of a Catholic gentleman."
"I heard the sound of many voices just now. I thought I heard a mass being sung," I said.
"You are right, young man."