"`Very well, Griffith; send the steward here;' and Sir Roger leaned on the sill of the latticed window in deep thought. The children called to him in their play, but he did not see them; the birds sang and the leaves rustled, but he did not hear them. "There you are, Enrico, with your birds and trees again, and we on the broad ocean, with the sea below us, and the blue sky overhead. "Yes, but there is love in both cases. As to who is in love on board the raft, you know as well as I do," and the speaker bent over the form nestled on his bosom, and kissed the fair forehead. There was a moment's silence, and one of the apparently sleeping men lifted his head, glanced around, and then, as Hughes continued his tale, dropped again on the deck, uttering a heavy curse. "Father Guy had brought over a strong body of the Catholic peasantry from Ireland, the cutter which landed them lying in a snug little bay near the farm. It is such a beautiful spot that bay, Isabel, formed by the hills dying away into the sea, and the rugged sides of the Little Orme." "Now, Enrico, I won't have it. Tell me of anything except rocks, trees, and birds," murmured Isabel. "Well, night had set in. The stars were gleaming round the twisted gables and chimneys of Penrhyn, but the windows of the little chapel were a blaze of light. Inside it some twenty noblemen were assembled, the last relics of the Catholic religion among the mountains of North Wales. The altar was decked out for mass, the long tapers lighted, the fragrant incense floated on the air, while, in the full splendour of his robes, stood Father Guy. "He was speaking eloquently and earnestly, just as a man, wearing a heavy horseman's cloak, glided in through the doorway of the chapel. "His audience were so wrapped up in the words they heard, and in the powerful appeal to their feelings so carried away by his eloquence, that he only remarked and recognised the intruder, who was no other than Sir Roger Mostyn. "`Yes, my sons,' concluded the old priest, `prompted by the Master of Iniquity, they would deny us the worship of our God, they would destroy religion by the introduction of schismatic doctrines. They would make the tenets of an ancient and holy Church subservient to the will of an earthly king, putting off and on its principles at pleasure, like to a raiment. I say unto you, that death is a meet reward for these usurpers of our Church--that he who aids not in the holy work set on foot this night belongs not unto us. Go forth, my sons, uphold the banner of the Church: let its enemies perish from the face of the earth, and, as a sign unto you that the God of our fathers is with you, turn, and behold whom he has delivered into your hand.' "The long, white, transparent fingers pointed towards the doorway, where Sir Roger Mostyn stood.