FATHER PHILIP'S ACCIDENT.
And thou hast loved him! Faith, what next?
It had been better far for thee
That thou had'st ne'er been born, than this.
Brood on thy folly, and return,
But when thou hast repented on't.
A WOMAN'S WHIM.
As the two lovers, happy in their newly-pledged love-troth, entered the gateway of the Hall they were encountered by the news that Father Philip had met with an accident. Margaret and Sir Everard Crowleigh had not yet returned, and messengers were even then, by the chamberlain's commands, preparing to go out to secure aid.
"'Tis a sad mishap, my lady," said that functionary, as Dorothy entered. "That stupid old horse of his threw him against a tree, and we cannot find Sir Benedict anywhere; the poor father is bleeding to death. He's dying, my lady, dying; what will the baron do if he return?"
"Hush! Thomas, of course he will return."
"May the blessed Virgin take pity on us," pursued the wretched man, "there is an evil spirit o'er the place. Someone is working a spell against us."
"Where is the father?" asked Manners abruptly.
"He lies in the chaplain's room; I can hear him groaning now. The saints look down in——"
Dorothy passed on, heeding not the continued invocations which the old man made to all the saints in the calendar, and led her lover into the little room in which the unfortunate priest lay.