THE REVELATION. The marriage day had passed away as the fleeting hours of mortal life do, quickly, and never to return; and so it should be, for if the past be but a prelude to future improvement, few would wish it to return. Latimer and the Lady Ellen were seated in the large room of the mansion purchased by Lord De Freston, situated in the centre of the town of Ipswich. The present theatre now occupies part of the site of the mansion, which, with its grounds opposite and behind it, took up a large space, now densely populated. One old room in the Tankard public house still retains a portion of its pristine beauty, and was then the handsomest room in that ancient hall. It was here that the bride and bridegroom received their friends, who from all parts of the neighborhood came to pay them respect. Their extensive garden then occupied the area from the corner of Brook Street down to the great foundation school, in which Wolsey had received the rudiments of his education; and the convent grounds contained the school which was under the superintendence of the Prior of St. Peter, who had the power of fixing the salary of the master. It was a garden containing walks for the public, and in it was the celebrated chapel of the Virgin, to which Ellen repaired after the fall of Wykes Bishop's Palace. The ancient mansion overlooked that garden, and Ellen and De Freston were seated in the beautifully oak-pannelled room, conversing upon the past. They spoke of Alice De Clinton, of the old palace, of the hermit of Holy Wells: and the reader may be sure they did not forget the memorable night when Latimer reached the stair of Lord De Freston's grounds, close under Freston Tower. Love likes to reflect on the mercies of God, and souls truly happy do ever remember the past with such spirit of thankfulness, and makes even imminent dangers the subject of congratulation. 'Do you remember, Ellen, that you promised to tell me why you were momentarily cast down on the day of our wedding festivity?' 'I do, William, and I can now freely converse with you upon the subject. You must have observed the young priest's agony when the tear fell upon my hand, which he joined with your own. I then looked up at his face--and can I ever forget the expression? Never! It told me, William, of a truth, which seems to account to me now for the strange alteration of his behaviour to me, my father, his own relatives, and yourself.' 'What was that, Ellen?' 'Simply this, William: that Wolsey had a hope, to which he then bade farewell for ever, that he might have possessed this hand to which you were then entitled.' 'It may be so, Ellen. But why then place a barrier for ever against all hopes of matrimonial alliance by entering into the church? He always appeared to me to be destined for the office he holds; and yet I do remember his occasional depressions at Oxford were only to be alleviated by a reference to Freston Tower.'