“Percy,” looking straight up into his eyes, with a wealth of love in her beautiful face which no mortal could have doubted--“I will not trifle; I will not mince words. I know what you mean; and when I tell you, from the uttermost depths of my heart, that your words have made me happier than I was before--happier than I had thought I could ever be--when I tell you that, you will know that I, too, have learned to love. Oh, Percy, I have loved you from the first; and I believe it has been the same with you.” “Yes, yes. Oh, how I have loved you, Cordelia! But I had never dared to dream of this. I can scarcely believe it even now. Shall I awake and find it a dream?” “If the dream makes you as happy as it makes me, dear Percy, I can only say--dream on.” “Aye! So I will. But--” “But what?” “The earl!” “Look ye, my own dear love,” said the brave girl, without a break or a quiver in her voice, “let the earl rest for the present. Let us become more used to our new-found joy. I have no wish to deceive the dear old man, and at a proper time I shall tell him. I expect he will be surprised; perhaps disappointed; but I can not believe he will be angry. At all events no power on earth shall take our love from us nor separate us.” “Oh, Cordelia!” “Percy!” “God grant that our love may prosper! Something whispers to me that I may hope.” “Yes, dear love, hope, and trust in me. I will forsake you never, never!” Just then they heard the footfall of the maid drawing near, and Cordelia turned to speak with her. ------- CHAPTER VII. A SPECTER IN THE MONKS’ CHAPEL. While Cordelia turned to speak with her maid, our hero, having shaken himself to make sure that he was awake and in possession of his sober senses, looked forward to see how far they were from the summit of the crag. It was close at hand--not a hundred yards distant. He was surprised. He had supposed it still a long way off. But his surprise vanished when he had consulted his watch--half-past four! “Mercy! Dear lady! Do you know what time it is?” “No. I have not thought of it.” He told her; but she was not alarmed. Even though it should be dark when they reached the castle, it would not matter. “Not if the weather holds fair,” returned the guide. “I don’t like the looks of those clouds rising away to the eastward.” “I thought storm-clouds always came from the sea.” “No, no. Clouds that give us long rains generally come from that direction; but, if you will remember, I think you will find that our severest storms are brewed on the other hand. But we will not complain in advance. Ah!” “Oh! Oh, is it not beautiful!” It was Mary Seymour who had thus exclaimed.