"One might fancy it the portals of heaven," said the clergyman; "the golden gate of entrance, leading to the pearly gates within, and to the glittering walls of precious stones." "Ay! And it seems to take the form of an entrance-gate!" exclaimed Hubert; for it really did so. "Look at it! Oh, Grame, surely the very gate of Heaven cannot be more wonderful than that!" "And if the gate of entrance is so unspeakably beautiful, what will the City itself be?" murmured Mr. Grame. "The Heavenly City! the New Jerusalem!" "It is beginning to fade," said Hubert presently, as they sat watching; "the brightness is going. What a pity!" "All that's bright must fade in this world, you know; and fade very quickly. Hubert! it will not in the next." * * * * * Church Leet, watching its neighbours' doings sharply, began to whisper that the new clergyman, Mr. Grame, was likely to cause unpleasantness to the Monk family, just as some of his predecessors had caused it. For no man having eyes in his head (still less any woman) could fail to see that the Captain's imperious daughter had fallen desperately in love with him. Would there be a second elopement, as in the days of Tom Dancox? Would Eliza Monk set her father at defiance as Katherine did? One of the last to see signs and tokens, though they took place under her open eyes, was Mrs. Carradyne. But she saw at last. The clergyman could not walk across a new-mown field, or down a shady lane, or be hastening along the dusty turnpike road, but by some inexplicable coincidence he would be met by Miss Monk; and when he came to the Hall to pass an hour with Hubert, she generally made a third at the interview. It had pleased her latterly to take to practising on the old church organ; and if Mr. Grame was not wiled into the church with her and her attendant, the ancient clerk, who blew the bellows, she was sure to alight upon him in going or returning. One fine evening, dinner over, when the last beams of the sun were slanting into the drawing-room, Eliza Monk was sitting back on a sofa, reading; Kate romped about the room, and Mrs. Carradyne had just rung the bell for tea. Lucy had been spending the afternoon with Mrs. Speck, and Hubert had now gone to fetch her home. "Good gracious, Kate, can't you be quiet!" exclaimed Miss Monk, as the child in her gambols sprang upon the sofa, upsetting the book and its reader's temper. "Go away: you are treading on my flounces. Aunt Emma, why do you persist in having this tiresome little reptile with us after dinner?" "Because your father will not let her be sent to the nursery," said Mrs. Carradyne. "Did you ever know a child like her?" "She is only as her mother was; as you were, Eliza--always rebellious. Kate, sit down to the piano and play one of your pretty tunes." "I won't," responded Kate. "Play yourself, Aunt Emma."