Chapter 23 FULFILMENT.

"My spirit heats her mortal bars,

As down dark tides the glory glides,

And mingles with the stars."

TENNYSON.

The year 1660 had come, and in the autumn, just as harvest was over, and the trees on the slopes were taking tints of red, yellow, and brown, an elderly clergyman, staff in hand, came slowly up the long lane leading to Elmwood,