e must yet be brave men who think so. It
cannot, surely, be possible that for one defeat so great a claim could
be abandoned for ever! Where is the Prince now? how is he occupied? who
are his adherents and counsellors?' were the questions which quickly
succeeded each other in his mind. 'Would I were a soldier, that I could
lay my services at his feet, or that I had skill or ability to aid his
cause in any way!'

He turned eagerly again to the memoir, whose concluding words were, 'He
landed once more in France, on the 20th of September.' 'And that is
now many a year ago,' said he, and with a dreary sigh; 'mayhap, of his
wrecked fortune, not a plank now remains. Who could guide me in this
matter--who advise me? 'He knew of but one, and yet he shuddered at the
idea of seeking counsel from Gabriel. The more Gerald reflected on it,
the more was he assured that if he could obtain access to the Prince,
his Royal Highness would remember his name. 'It is impossible,' thought
he, 'but that some of my family must have been engaged in his cause, or
why should I, as a mere child, have been taught to pray each night for
his success, and ask for a blessing on his head?' Yearning as his heart
was for some high purpose in life, it sent a thrill of intense delight
through him to think of such a destiny.

It was a part of the training in the Jesuit College, to induce the youth
to select some saintly model for imitation in life, and while some chose
St. Francis Xavier, or St. Vincent de Paul, others took St. Anthony
of Padua, St. Francis d'Assisi, or any other illustrious martyr of the
faith; each votary being from the hour of his selection a most strenuous
upholder of the patron he assumed. Indeed, of the enthusiasm in this
respect some strange and almost incredible stories ran, showing how, in
their zeal, many had actually submitted to most painful self-tortures,
to resemble the idols of their ambition. How easy was it now for
Gerald to replace any of these grim saints and martyrs by an image
that actually filled his whole heart--one who possessed every graceful
attribute and every attractive quality. The seed of hero-worship thus
sown in his nature ripened to a harvest very different from that it
was intended to bear, and Charles Edward occupied the shrine some pious
martyr should have held. He little knew, indeed, how easily affections,
nurtured for one class of objects, are transferred to others totally
unlike them, and how often are