is a weary road--'potum meum cum
fletu miscebam,'" added he, finishing off his champagne, "is it far from
this?"

"Only to the boat-house, father," said Lady Hester.

"Per mares et ignos! it's a good half-hour's walk," growled he.

"You can have the pony carriage, father," interposed she.

"He starts at everything by night--don't trust the pony," said Jekyl.

"Well, then, be carried in my chair, father."

"Be it so,--be it so," muttered he. "I yield myself to anything,--'sicut
passer sub tecto,'--I have no will of my own."

"Go along with him, my Lord," whispered D'Esmonde: "the opportunity will
be a good one to see the young officer. While the father talks with the
sick man, you can converse with the friend. See in what frame of mind he
is."

"Does he speak French? for I am but an indifferent German," said
Norwood.

"Yes, French will do," said D'Esmonde, who, after a moment's hesitation
as to whether he should reveal the secret of Frank's country, seemed to
decide on still reserving the knowledge.

"But this could be better done to-morrow," said Norwood.

"To-morrow will be too late," whispered D'Esmonde. "Go now; you shall
know my reasons at your return."

Norwood took little heed of the canonico's attempts at conversation as
they went along. His mind was occupied with other thoughts. The moment
of open revolt was drawing nigh, and now came doubts of D'Esmonde's
sincerity and good faith. It was true that many of the priests were
disposed to the wildest theories of democracy,--they were men of more
than ordinary capacity, with far less than the ordinary share of worldly
advantages. D'Esmonde, however, was not one of these; there was no limit
to which his ambition might not reasonably aspire,--no dignity in his
Church above his legitimate hopes. What benefit could accrue to him from
a great political convulsion? "He'll not be nearer to the Popedom
when the cannon are shaking the Vatican!" Such were the puzzling
considerations that worked within him as he drew near the boat-house.

A figure was seated on the door-sill, with the head buried beneath his
hands, but on hearing the approach of the others be quickly arose and
drew himself up. "You are too late, sir," said he, addressing the priest
sternly; "my poor comrade is no more!"

"Ah me! and they would drag me out in the chill night air," groaned the
canonico.

The cruelty of that must have weighed heavily on his heart.

Frank turned away, and re-en