Pushing the inner door ajar, and casting a look around the yard at
the same time to satisfy himself that he was not observed, he quietly
entered the edifice, and closed the door.

"Ha, ha," he mused. "At last we shall meet again," and at the thought
of it he heaved a sigh of relief.

Seating himself in the family pew, he pulled out a book from his
capacious breast-pocket, and as he anticipated a long period of
uninterrupted peace, he commenced to peruse it. It was "Tottel's
Miscellany," a collection of amorous sonnets, and little love sonnets
and little love songs, and he read page after page, to the delight
of his heart, until he was startled to a sense of his position by the
sound of voices just outside.

"No, no, Sir Edward. We must give her a little longer time, she will
come round soon to our opinion," were the words he unmistakably heard.

"But you promised her to me this Christmas, remember," was the quick
reply.

"Aye, so I did," returned the first speaker. "I would that I had not
promised her at all, she is so unhappy over it."

"And I have laid my plans according to that promise," rejoined his
companion.

"We must allow her a little longer time," replied the baron,
decisively. "Manners has been again to flame her passion for him anew.