"There is Mr. Coverdale!"
"Miles Coverdale!" said another voice,--and its tones were very stern.
"Let him come forward, then!"
"Yes, Mr. Coverdale," cried a woman's voice,--clear and melodious, but,
just then, with something unnatural in its chord,--"you are welcome!
But you come half an hour too late, and have missed a scene which you
would have enjoyed!"
I looked up and found myself nigh Eliot's pulpit, at the base of which
sat Hollingsworth, with Priscilla at his feet and Zenobia standing
before them.