“_She_ may rejoice,” he bitterly said, “but can I? She may be merry, for I return the same, as when I departed, ten long years since; though beautiful maidens there have been, who tried my fidelity in Palestine. Ah! this night has made me an old man! Would that my days had been spent amidst the holy tombs at Jerusalem, and I might there have prayed for Mabel, my Mabel, all ignorant of her frailty. But I must remount my steed. Poor Mabel, she has done penance for me, and cannot that atone? Forgive her? Yes, and she shall receive my blessing in a few minutes.” He vaulted upon his horse, but in vain did he spur and lash. The animal staggered, and but for great caution, would have fallen. He again dismounted, and slowly led it to Wigan. The lights in the town were extinguished. He passed the church. He stood, for a moment, to gaze upon the venerable structure. The clock was striking the hour of one, and within the low and grey cloisters, which are now destroyed, a late vesper was tuned. The notes seemed to be sung by some virgin-spirits. Heaven bless those whose sweet, sweet voices are heard by none else, for oh, none else can bless them; whose soft knees which a gallant husband might have gartered oft and oft, in pride and sport, bend on the cold stones, at no domestic altar, through the long night. What a holy calm fell upon Sir William’s troubled spirit! “Here Mabel and I may sleep peaceably together in death, if we cannot in life. God bless our union then. No blood will be the seal of the renewed covenant. If we cannot live happily now, since she has been--no, I cannot say faithless, but oh! frail, frail;--why the grave may hush our discords.” He turned into the Hall-gate, with the purpose of leaving his horse at an hostelrie, for he knew that it could not proceed to Haigh hall forthwith. He still kept his eye upon the holy place, when he was suddenly seized by two armed men. They were the sentries of the gate. “So, nightingale,” exclaimed the stoutest, “we have caught thee. Resist not. We have orders to bear thee to the Mayor, and, by and by, you may expect to be caged.” “Stand back, knaves, and keep your distance. What would ye with me?” “Aye, aye, bold enough,” was the reply. “Thou art the horseman who passed our fellows at the other gate, in pursuit of Sir Osmund Neville. They called thee a ghost. Ho, ho. But” and he brought the lamp which he carried to bear closer upon the person of Sir William; “here is blood, blood. Come in, else we strike thee to the ground.” It was in vain, the knight saw, to remonstrate; vainer still, on account of his weakness to assault. He gave his horse to the charge of one of the guards, who soon obtained accommodation for it; and allowed himself to be conducted, without resistance, to the house of the mayor.