Loveday's History by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

WHEN we reached the Strand, we found the rest of our escort waiting for us before a handsome house which I had often seen in my walks. There were two or three stout fellows well-armed, and a sober, somewhat vinegar-faced man, dressed like a steward or something of that sort. Two other men led palfreys caparisoned for women's use. As we drew near and joined the group, the door opened and two ladies were led forth. They were closely veiled, yet I could see that one was young and handsome. As she was put upon her horse, she raised her veil for a moment and looked about with a wild, despairing glance, like that of some small, helpless, trapped animal, seeking a way of escape. In a moment, the veil was dropped again, the other lady mounted her horse, and the whole cavalcade set forward as briskly as the state of the road would permit.

The fresh, sharp, autumn air; the quick movement, and the change of scene, roused me a little from the heavy stupor of grief and rage-I know not what else to call it-which had oppressed me, and I began to look about me. Father Austin seemed to note the change, and began gently to point out different objects of interest. He showed me the house where he himself was born and brought up-a comfortable old red brick hall, looking like the very home of peace and plenty in its ancient elm and nut trees, and began to tell me little tales of his boyhood, of his mother and sisters and his pet rabbits.