“To tell you the truth, dear child, I have thought there must be, somewhere near that altar, a secret trap--an entrance, in some way, to hidden vaults or crypts below.” “But you never found anything?” “No. I have searched at every possible point. I have closely examined every seam and every crevice, but nothing have I been able to find--not a trace, not a sign.” “Now, grandpa, if I will tell you something, you will keep it to yourself, won’t you--at least till I tell you otherwise?” “Certainly, darling, if there is good reason for it.” “Well, there is the very best of reasons. We agreed--Percy and I--that we wouldn’t speak of it until he had time to investigate; but, since you know so much, you ought to know this, too.” And thereupon she went on, excitedly and vividly, yet very clearly and succinctly, to tell the story of the adventure of the previous evening. “Oh!” she cried, when she had concluded the narrative, “I am glad it was Percy. If there is anything to be found, be sure he will find it.” “Cordelia!” The girl started. There was something in the tone--in the manner in which her name had been thus abruptly pronounced, that sounded strangely to her. It seemed to her as though she could detect pain in it. “Cordelia! You think a great deal of Percy Maitland?” What in the world did he mean? Had he read her secret? Did he know or did he suspect, that she loved him, loved him with all the love of her heart? Ah! Matthew had spoken. His word had given the earl’s thoughts direction. She had hoped that the secret might be Percy’s and hers for a time longer; and it would be an easy matter to deceive her questioner, even now. But, could she do it? Could she, in this hour, when a holy love had sanctified and beautified her life, take her first step in falsehood? Oh, no! no! “My dear child!--darling!” reaching out and taking her hand, when a full minute had elapsed and she had not spoken. “You are not afraid of your dear old grandpa. Will you not trust him fully?” “Yes, yes!” the noble girl answered. She started to her feet, and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him; then having resumed her seat, she looked frankly, trustfully up, and added: “Ask me what you please, dear grandpa, and I will answer if I can.” “Cordelia! your generous tone, your entire readiness to answer, tells me that I, too, should be generous and confess to you my source of information. It was Matthew who put the thought into my mind, and he did it most unkindly.” “I knew it, dear grandpa. He taunted me, or he meant to do so, and he made terrible threats, but they do not frighten me. They did at first, but they do not now. Dear, dear old grandpa,” she cried impulsively, after a short silence, at the same time grasping his arm with both her hands, “would you, could you ask me to marry with Lord Oakleigh?” “Oh, my soul, no!” “Did my father ever express a wish that I should marry with him?” “No; he never did.”