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. The portly form of Father Philip lay stretched at full length upon a wooden bench, and the room resounded with his painful groans. As they approached nearer to him they could see the fearful injuries he had received; and the continued reiteration of the sufferer that he was about to die needed no other confirmation than a glance at his pale face, upon which the mark of death was plainly written. Father Philip, despite his faults, was universally beloved in the neighbourhood--by the poor for the bounty he dispensed at the gates from the well-stocked larder of the knight; by the rich because he was by far the best tale-teller of the district, and the success of a feast at which he was present was at once assured; and by the children generally, for the confections and little silver pence he bestowed upon them, along with his kind word and cheery smile, in a most liberal manner. At Haddon he was a prime favourite with all alike. He had entered the service of the Vernons soon after the monasteries were dissolved, in the time of Henry VIII., and had grown old in his office. Throughout the critical and changeful reigns of Edward and Mary, as well as the early years of Elizabeth's time, he had, in spite of all the attempts made to oust him, retained his position as confessor to the family and priest of the chapel at Haddon, and, as he had christened Margaret, he was looking forward with pleasurable expectancy to the occasion when he would be called upon to marry her also.