It may have been the balminess of the afternoon, solicitude for her brother's return, or a transient feeling, that controlled the expression of the maiden's face, but it seemed to have still less of earth in its exquisite proportions, and her eye was softer and deeper.
It was Monday afternoon; and on this day every week, the missionary instructed the children of the neighborhood and prepared them for Communion.

There still remained an hour before the time for evening service, and Father Omehr proposed to the Lady Margaret a walk along the shady avenue at the border of the forest.

Disengaging herself from the children, who loved her and were clustering about her, she readily assented.
"Father," began the maiden, as they walked together, "when may we expect the duke ?" "Before long, I hope," replied the missionary; "the conventicle at Worms will decide at once which of his barons are for and which against him.

I should not be surprised to see them returning at any moment." "Are they in no danger from ill-disposed chieftains ?" asked the lady.
"The duke will pass through a friendly country, and is too much loved and feared to be assailed in his own dominions.

Your father, I presume, is not anxious about their safety ?" "Oh, no! He talks as if they were invulnerable." "At least," returned the priest, "you should rest content with praying for them, and not distress yourself with idle fears." A pause of some minutes ensued here, during which Margaret's mind seemed actively and painfully employed.