|Feeling that their presence might be some restraint upon the meeting,
the ladies soon afterwards withdrew, and entered the house, accompanied
by Father Norham.
As soon as they were alone together, Lady Webb embraced her daughter
with more than her customary warmth, and again congratulated her on her
good fortune.
“You are now in the most enviable position in which a girl can be
placed,” she said. “You have obtained as a husband one of the richest
and most powerful nobles in the land, and who, in addition to these
recommendations, has youth, good looks, and extreme amiability. Could
you desire more?”
“No, dearest mamma,” she replied. “I ought to be grateful, and I _am_
grateful. I do not deserve so much. I ought to return thanks to Heaven
for its great goodness towards me. I should like to see Father Norham
alone.”
“I entirely approve of your resolution, my dear child,” replied her
mother. “Remain here. I will send the holy father to you.”
She then left her, and the interval between her departure and the good
priest's appearance was passed in prayer.
Father Norham found her on her knees before a small image of the Blessed
Virgin, which was in the room, and did not interrupt her.
When she arose, he expressed his great satisfaction at finding her thus
employed.
“I am now certain his lordship has chosen well,” he said.
“I hope he will never regret the step he has taken, father,” she
rejoined.
“Strive earnestly to make him happy, dear daughter, and you cannot
fail,” said the priest. “Have you aught to say to me?”
“I desire to disburden my conscience, father,” she replied. “I have not
much upon it, but I shall feel easier when I have spoken.”
“You will do well, daughter,” he said.
He then sat down, and she knelt beside him, and cleared her breast of
all that weighed upon it.
It was not more than many a maiden would have to avow, but the good
father was strict, and imposed a slight penance upon her.
“You must debar yourself from the society of him you love till
to-morrow,” he said.
She uttered an exclamation, but the priest went on:
“For the rest of the day you must remain in the seclusion of this
chamber, so that your thoughts may be undisturbed. Part of the night
must be passed in vigil and prayer. This will be a fitting preparation
for the ceremony you are about to go through.”
“What will Lord Derwentwater think, father?” she asked uneasily.
“I will take care he receives such explanation as may be necessary,” he
replied. “But I again enjoin solitude and reflection. Later on, I will
take you to the chapel, where your vigils must be kept till midnight.
Promise me not to quit this room, without my sanction.”
“I will obey you, father,” she rejoined.