e was
addressing you, called him 'my lord duke' or 'my lord,' I called him so
also; I caused the doors to be opened, and, in order to complete the
illusion, I gave the Gascon your sword, your enameled snuff box, and the
old cloak to which you are so attached."

"Ah! What have you done, Angela?" cried the duke, "my father's sword,
the snuff box my mother gave me, and the cloak which belonged to the
most saintly, the most admirable martyr who ever sacrificed himself to
friendship."

"James, my love, pardon. I thought I was doing for the best," cried
Angela, overcome by the expression of bitterness and chagrin which she
read in the features of James.

"Poor beloved angel," replied Monmouth, taking her hands in his, "I do
not reproach you, but I have so great a respect for these holy relics
that it grieves me to see them profaned by a falsehood, even of a few
moments' duration. I repeat, you do not know the terrible memories which
are attached to the cloak. Alas! I have not told you all!"

"You have not told me all?" said Angela in surprise. "When you came to
seek me in France in the name of my second father, my benefactor, dead
on the field of battle," and Angela sighed sorrowfully, "did you not
offer to share your life with me, poor orphan that I was, did you not
say that you loved me? what matters the rest? If it did not concern your
well-being, your life, should I ever have dreamed of speaking to you of
your condition, of your birth? I married you proscribed, flying from the
furious hate of your enemies. We have escaped many dangers, evaded many
suspicions, thanks to my pretended marriages, and your various
disguises. Then, what can you have hidden from me? If it is some new
danger, James, my beloved husband, my lover, I will never forgive you,
for I must partake all with you, good or bad fortune. Your life is my
life; your enemies my enemies. Although this attempt happily failed, now
that they know your retreat, they will continue to seek you with
increased malignity. You must fly. In two hours the Chameleon will be
ready to set sail."

Deeply occupied with his thoughts, Monmouth had not heard Angela. He
walked up and down with long strides, repeating to himself, "There is no
doubt, they know I am living; but how has William of Orange penetrated
this secret which was known only to Father Griffen and myself, because
the holy martyr who carried this secret to the tomb, and De Crussol,
last governor of this island,