"Ah! She has changed all that," said Raston, sadly. "It seems--I think I told you this before--that Mrs Jeal told her some horrible Calvinistic doctrine, and poor Pearl thinks she is lost eternally. It was her idea that the cup was given into her charge, and now she believes that the Master has taken it from her because she is not good enough to be the custodian." "Poor girl!" said Peggy, sympathetically. "But I thought, Harold, that she believed the cup had been taken up to Heaven for the Supper of the Master?" "She did believe that till Mrs Jeal upset her mind anew. Now she thinks she is lost, and I can't get the terrible idea out of her head. She is like a lost thing wandering about the moor. Only one cure is possible." "What is that, Harold?" "The cup must be restored to the altar she has built." "An altar! Has she built one?" "I followed her on to the moor the other day, wishing to calm her mind. Some distance away, in the centre of the heather, she has erected an altar of turf, and she told me that if the Master forgave her He would replace the cup which He had taken from her on that altar. She goes there every day to see if the cup has returned. If it did, I believe she would again be her old happy self." "But there is no chance of the cup being returned." "No," said Raston, a trifle grimly; "Pratt has got it again in his possession, and he will not let it go. Save for Pearl, I do not think it matters much. We could never again use it for the service of the chapel. A cup that has been stolen cannot be put to sacred uses." "Do you think it was stolen?" "I am certain of it. Everything belonging to that man was stolen. What a pity, Peggy, that such a clever fellow should use his talents for such a bad purpose." "A great pity. I liked Mr Pratt, and even now, although he is such a wretch, I can't help feeling sorry for him." "So do I, Peggy. There was good in Pratt. Let us hope he will repent. But now, darling, don't let us talk more of him. He has gone, and will never come back. What about the wedding-day?" "Oh, Harold!" began Peggy, and blushed. After this the conversation became too personal to be reported. It is sufficient to say that the wedding-day was fixed for two months later. While all these discoveries in connections with Pratt were being made in Colester, events which had to do with Sybil's advertisement had happened which prevented her keeping it any longer a secret from her father. She put off telling him till the very last moment, but when one day a London visitor arrived she was forced to speak out. A card inscribed with the name "Lord Kilspindie" was brought to her, and on the back of it was a pencilled note hinting that the gentleman had called about the advertisement. Sybil ordered that he should be shown into the drawing-room, and went to her father's study. The vicar was preparing his sermon, and looked up ill-pleased at the interruption. "What is it, Sybil?" he asked. "I am busy."