Neither Stephen nor any of his household ever set foot in the church for the purposes of worship; for, strange as it may seem, the Dales, surrounded by English country yokels, whose sole notion of religion lay in a perfunctory attendance at church once on a Sunday—­afternoon for preference—­to listen uncomprehending to the service, and slumber through the sermon, came of a Catholic stock.  Both Stephen and his wife hailed from Lancashire; they had spent many years in service together in a Catholic household about fifty miles distant from Lanedon before they had married and set up housekeeping at the “British Lion.”  Nor were they so utterly deprived of the consolations of religion as at first sight might appear; four miles away were the military barracks of Melliford, and a Catholic chapel which had been built there—­principally on account of the soldiers—­was served every Sunday and holiday from a larger center, and thither the Dales regularly drove to worship.

Seven children had been born to the worthy couple, but death had snatched all in turn except the last; this was Penelope (our Penny), who, needless to say, was the idol of both parents.  The result of their devotion was a rather strict surveillance, to which she was subjected, not only during childhood’s years, but with even greater insistence when she had reached maidenhood.  For it became necessary then to guard their treasure from any adventurer who might seek to win her in marriage for the sake of the goodly dowry which every one knew must fall to her lot.  Her father would often remark with no little show of determination:  “Penny shall never throw herself away on any whipper-snapper of a fellow!  She’ll not be a pauper, and she can afford to wait a bit till she meets her match!”

It is not to be surprised, therefore, that Penny should hold her pretty head rather high.  No mere plowman would dare to aspire to the hand of a landlord’s only daughter, and no marriageable farmer to whom Penny might aspire was to be found in the neighborhood.  As to the military—­Penny would have scouted the idea of wedding a common soldier, and was sensible enough to turn a cold shoulder upon the undisguised glances of admiration of youthful and impressionable officers.  Thus it came about that she had blossomed into a graceful girl of twenty—­small in stature, yet not without good looks—­and yet remained heart-whole.

Among their few intimate acquaintances the Dales had a particular attraction for one of the married sergeants of the barracks and his wife—­both Catholics.  Sergeant Pike and his better-half would not infrequently, especially during the summer months, stroll over to the inn of an evening—­sure of a hearty welcome to a cup of tea and a chat.  Pike had seen service in India, and his adventures would thrill his rustic audience in the inn, as they listened over pipe and mug to his stirring narratives.  His wife was equally entertaining toward Sarah Dale and