"There is a way," continued the old crone, in a deep whisper, "by which the estates might still be hers and yours." "Indeed!" said Mrs. Mowbray, eagerly. "Sir Piers Rookwood had two sons." "Ha!" "The elder is here." "Luke--Sir Luke. He brought us hither." "He loves your daughter. I saw his gaze of passion just now. I am old now, but I have some skill in lovers' glances. Why not wed her to him? I read hands--read hearts, you know. They were born for each other. Now, madam, do you understand me?" "But," returned Mrs. Mowbray, with hesitation, "though I might wish for--though I might sanction this, Eleanor is betrothed to Ranulph--she loves him." "Think not of _her_, if _you_ are satisfied. She cannot judge so well for herself as you can for her. She is a child, and knows not what she loves. Her affection will soon be Luke's. He is a noble youth--the image of his grandfather, your father, Sir Reginald; and if your daughter be betrothed to any one, 'twas to the heir of Rookwood. That was an essential part of the contract. Why should the marriage not take place at once, and here?" "Here! How were that possible?" "You are within sacred walls. I will take you where an altar stands. There is no lack of holy priest to join their hands together. Your companion, Father Ambrose, as you call him, will do the office fittingly. He has essayed his clerkly skill already on others of your house." "To what do you allude, mysterious woman?" asked Mrs. Mowbray, with anxiety. "To Sir Piers and Susan Bradley," returned Barbara. "That priest united them." "Indeed! He never told me this." "He dared not do so; he had an oath which bound him to concealment. The time is coming when greater mysteries will be revealed." "'Tis strange I should not have heard of this before," said Mrs. Mowbray, musingly; "and yet I might have guessed as much from his obscure hints respecting Ranulph. I see it all now. I see the gulf into which I might have been plunged; but I am warned in time. Father Ambrose," continued she, to the priest, who was pacing the chamber at some little distance from them, "is it true that my brother was wedded by you to Susan Bradley?" Ere the priest could reply the sexton presented himself. "Ha, the very father of the girl!" said Mrs. Mowbray, "whom I met within our family vault, and who was so strangely moved when I spoke to him of Alan Rookwood. Is he here likewise?" "Alan Rookwood!" echoed Barbara, upon whom a light seemed suddenly to break; "ha! what said he of him?" "Ill-boding raven," interposed Peter, fiercely, "be content with what thou knowest of the living, and trouble not the repose of the dead. Let them rest in their infamy." "The dead!" echoed Barbara, with a chuckling laugh; "ha! ha! he is dead, then; and what became of his fair wife--his brother's minion? 'Twas a foul deed, I grant, and yet there was expiation. Blood flowed--blood----"