!' muttered he sadly. 'Insults are hard to bear when one's arm is
too feeble to resent them.'

Kelly sighed too; and neither spoke for some seconds. 'What heavy
breathings are those I hear?' cried Kelly suddenly; 'some one has
overheard us.'

'Have no fear of that,' replied the other; 'it is a stout friar, taking
his evening nap, on the stone bench yonder.'

Kelly hastened to the spot, and by the struggling gleam of the lamp
could just recognise Fra Luke as he lay sleeping, snoring heavily.

'You know him, then?' asked O'Sullivan.

'That do I: he is a countryman of ours, and as honest a soul as lives;
but yet I'd just as soon not see him here Fra Luke,' said he, shaking
the sleeper's shoulder, 'Fra Luke. By St. Joseph! they must have hard
mattresses up there at the convent, or he 'd not sleep so soundly here.'

The burly friar at last stirred, and shook himself like some great
water-dog, and then turning his eyes on Kelly, gradually recalled where
he was. 'Would he see me, Laurence? would he just let me say one word to
him?' muttered he in Kelly's ear.

'Impossible, Fra Luke; he is on a bed of sickness. God alone knows if he
is ever to rise up from it!'

The Fra bent his head, and for some minutes continued to pray with great
fervour, then turning to Kelly, said: * If it's dying he is, there's no
good in disturbing his last moments; but if he was to get well enough to
hear it, Laurence, will you promise to let me have two or three minutes
beside his bed? Will you, at least* ask him if he 'd see Fra Luke? He
'll know why himself.'

'My poor fellow,' said Kelly kindly, 'like all the world, you fancy that
the things which touch yourself must be nearest to the hearts of others.
I don't want to learn your secret, Luke--Heaven knows I have more than I
wish for in my keeping already!--but take my word for it, the Prince has
cares enough on his mind without your asking him to hear yours.'

'Will you give him this, then,' said the Fra, handing him the bag with
the money; 'there's a hundred crowns in it just as he gave it to me,
Monday was a fortnight. Tell him that--'here he stopped and wiped his
forehead, in confusion of thought; 'tell him that it 's not wanting any
more for--for what he knows; that it's all over now; not that he's dead,
though--God be praised!--but what am I saying? Oh dear! oh dear! after
my swearing never to speak of him!'

'You are safe with me, Luke, depend on that. Only, as to the money, take