hich summoned the Chaplain to some official duty.

The reverend man made many unnecessary apologies for leaving his new
friend, and concluded by giving him the agreeable assurance that
he might walk in the garden till supper, without much risk of being
disturbed.

"It is," said he, "the place where I always study my own homilies, as
being most sequestered from the resort of strangers. I am now about to
deliver one of them in the chapel, if you please to favour me with your
audience. I have been thought to have some gift.--But the glory be where
it is due!"

Quentin excused himself for this evening, under pretence of a severe
headache, which the open air was likely to prove the best cure for, and
at length the well meaning, priest left him to himself.

It may be well imagined, that in the curious inspection which he now
made, at more leisure, of every window or aperture which looked into the
garden, those did not escape which were in the immediate neighbourhood
of the small door by which he had seen Marthon admit Hayraddin, as he
pretended, to the apartment of the Countesses. But nothing stirred or
showed itself, which could either confute or confirm the tale which the
Bohemian had told, until it was becoming dusky, and Quentin began to be
sensible, he scarce knew why, that his sauntering so long in the garden
might be subject of displeasure or suspicion. Just as he had resolved to
depart, and was taking what he had destined for his last turn under the
windows which had such attraction for him, he heard above him a slight
and cautious sound, like that of a cough, as intended to call his
attention, and to avoid the observation of others. As he looked up in
joyful surprise, a casement opened, a female hand was seen to drop a
billet, which fell into a rosemary bush that grew at the foot of the
wall. The precaution used in dropping this letter prescribed equal
prudence and secrecy in reading it. The garden, surrounded, as we have
said, upon two sides, by the buildings of the palace, was commanded,
of course, by the windows of many apartments, but there was a sort of
grotto of rock work, which the Chaplain had shown Durward with much
complacency. To snatch up the billet, thrust it into his bosom, and
hie to this place of secrecy, was the work of a single minute. He there
opened the precious scroll, and blessed, at the same time, the memory
of the Monks of Aberbrothick, whose nurture had rendered him capable of
deciphering