g, and
was most melodiously disturbed afterwards, by some strolling minstrel.
Were you not annoyed by unseasonable music, Mr. Stanhope?"

"I heard music, at a late hour," he replied; "but it did not disturb me,
as I was still awake."

As he spoke, he was vexed to feel the color mount to his very temples;
and Lucie, who instantly comprehended the cause of his confusion, bent
her eyes to the ground, while her cheeks were suffused with blushes. An
embarrasing pause ensued; and De Valette, displeased at the secret
sympathy which their looks betrayed, stooped to pluck a rose, that grew
on a small bush beside him.

"What have you done, Eustace?" asked Lucie, hastily, and glad to break
the awkward silence; "you have spoiled my favorite rose-bush, which I
would not have given for all the flowers of the garden."

"It is a poor little thing," said De Valette, turning it carelessly in
his hand; "I could gather you a dozen far more beautiful, and quite as
fragrant."

"Not one that I value half as much," she answered, taking it from him,
and breathing on the crushed leaves, to restore their freshness; "I have
reared it with much care, from a stock which I brought from
Northumberland; and it has now blossomed for the first time--a memento
of many happy days."

Her words were addressed to Stanhope, and he was receiving the rose from
her hand, when her countenance suddenly changed, and, closing her eyes,
as if to exclude some unwelcome object, she clung to his offered arm for
support. He was too much absorbed by her, to seek the cause of her
alarm; but De Valette observed father Gilbert, standing at a little
distance, his eyes intently fixed on Lucie, while his features betrayed
the conflict of powerful emotions.

"Why are you thus agitated, Lucie?" asked De Valette, in surprise;
"surely you recognize the priest; you do not fear him?"

"He _makes_ me fear him, Eustace; he always looks at me so fixedly, so
wildly, that I cannot--dare not meet his gaze."

"This is mere fancy, Lucie," he answered, lightly; "is it strange that
even the holy father should gaze on you with earnestness?"

"It is no time to jest, Eustace," she answered, with a trembling voice;
"speak to him,--he is coming hither,--I will not stay."

While she spoke, the priest drew near her,--paused a moment,--and,
murmuring a few words in a low voice, turned again, and, with a
thoughtful and abstracted air, walked slowly from them. De Valette
followed him; and L