ly.

'Nor do I wish either to go to Rome,' continued his son.

'Well, well, you have taken a load off my mind, my dear boy. I would not
confess it, because I wish to save you pain; but really, I believe
the idea of your going to Rome would have been a serious shock to your
mother. It is not so much the distance, though that is great, nor the
climate, which has its dangers, but, you understand, with her peculiar
views, her very strict----' The duke did not care to finish his
sentence.

'Nor, my dear father,' continued Lord Montacute, 'though I did not like
to interrupt you when you were speaking with so much solicitude and
consideration for me, is it exactly travel, in the common acceptation of
the term, that I feel the need of. I wish, indeed, to leave England; I
wish to make an expedition; a progress to a particular point; without
wandering, without any intervening residence. In a word, it is the Holy
Land that occupies my thought, and I propose to make a pilgrimage to the
sepulchre of my Saviour.'

The duke started, and sank again into his chair. 'The Holy Land! The
Holy Sepulchre!' he exclaimed, and repeated to himself, staring at his
son.

'Yes, sir, the Holy Sepulchre,' repeated Lord Mon-tacute, and now
speaking with his accustomed repose. 'When I remember that the Creator,
since light sprang out of darkness, has deigned to reveal Himself to His
creature only in one land, that in that land He assumed a manly form,
and met a human death, I feel persuaded that the country sanctified by
such intercourse and such events must be endowed with marvellous and
peculiar qualities, which man may not in all ages be competent
to penetrate, but which, nevertheless, at all times exercise an
irresistible influence upon his destiny. It is these qualities that many
times drew Europe to Asia during the middle centuries. Our castle has
before this sent forth a De Montacute to Palestine. For three days and
three nights he knelt at the tomb of his Redeemer. Six centuries and
more have elapsed since that great enterprise. It is time to restore and
renovate our communications with the Most High. I, too, would kneel at
that tomb; I, too, surrounded by the holy hills and sacred groves of
Jerusalem, would relieve my spirit from the bale that bows it down;
would lift up my voice to heaven, and ask, What is duty, and what is
faith? What ought I to do, and what ought I to believe?'

The Duke of Bellamont rose from his seat, and walked up