Then Eustace Trevor lifted up his eyes, and could not fail to remark three young ladies also in the gallery, who stood side by side, mingling their voices with the humble choir; and their appearance at once fixed his attention, not so much for any personal beauty they might possess, as for the goodness, innocence, and unaffected devotion shining so clearly on each upturned face. In proof of which it might have been observed, that after the first general glance over the group, it was not so much on the elder of the sisters, lovely in a most striking degree, neither upon the blooming Hebe of fifteen, as upon that pale, and gentle-looking girl, who stood between the two, on whom the stranger's eye more especially lingered--and loved her, even as he gazed. For there was something in the pensive sweetness of those eyes--the open purity of the brow--the meek and quiet, yet high-toned spirit, which shone from every feature of the young girl's face, that went directly to his heart. His excited fancy even travelled so far, as to behold in her a likeness to that being who had passed into the heavens; and once--only once, when her voice in sweet but timid accents swelled singly in the choir, he held his breath to catch each low, yet thrilling tone, "for it sounds to him like his mother's voice singing in Paradise." Eustace Trevor returned to the inn, but more than once during the following week did the stranger turn his pony's head towards the valley of Ll---- (we will spare our readers a name they perhaps would not be able to read aright); and on Sunday afternoon, he did not fail again to seek the village church, expecting that it would be for the last time--for he purposed departing on the morrow--it not suiting his intentions to remain in any one place so long as to draw down upon himself remark or inquiry. And perhaps a few weeks more, had he carried out his designs, might have found him a wanderer on a foreign shore. But who can tell what a day may bring forth? It was early when he arrived at the church, the bells even had not began; and on repairing to a retired part of the church-yard, where a lovely view was to be obtained, he suddenly came in contact with the clergyman who had officiated the previous Sunday. He bowed to Eustace--who returned the salutation--and passed on with feeble steps, having regarded the stranger somewhat curiously; but scarcely had the latter reached his destined resting-place, when he heard a footstep approaching, and looking round saw the clergyman had returned, and immediately accosted him. "Sir," speaking with evident difficulty, "I must beg you to excuse the liberty I am taking in thus addressing you; but may I ask--I scarcely dare to hope it to be the case--may I ask," glancing at Eustace's black garb, and the deep crape round his hat, "whether by any chance you are a clergyman?" Eustace was taken by surprise, but a melancholy smile crossed his features, as he looked and murmured an affirmative.