here on the
Campagna, than stand up before all them grand people!' The very thought
of such an ordeal seemed too much for the poor friar, for he wiped his
forehead with the loose cuff of his robe, and for some minutes appeared
to be totally lost in reflection.

With a low sigh he at last resumed: 'Here it is, now; and I made it
short, for Kelly said, "if it's more than one side of a sheet he 'll
never look at it, but just say 'Another time, my good friend, another
time. This is an affair that requires consideration; I 'll direct
Monsignore to attend to it.' When he says that, it's all over with you,"
says Kelly. Monsignore Bargalli hates every one of us--Scotch, English,
and Irish alike, and is always belying and calumniating us; but if he
reads it himself, there's always a chance that he may do something, and
that's the reason I made it as short as I could.'

With this preface, he flattened out the somewhat crumpled piece of
paper, and read aloud:

'"To His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, the true-born descendant
of the House of Stuart, and rightful heir to the Crown of England, the
humble and dutiful petition of Mary Fitzgerald, of Cappa-Glyn, in the
County Kildare, Ireland------"

'Eh, what?' cried he suddenly; for a scarcely audible murmur proclaimed
something like dissent or correction.

'I was thinking, Fra Luke,' said she mildly, 'if it wouldn't be better
not to say "of Cappa-Glyn." 'Tis gone away from us now for ever,
and--and----'

'What matter--it was yours once. Your ancestors owned it for hundreds
and hundreds of years; and if you're not there now, neither is he
himself where he ought to be.'

The explanation seemed conclusive, and he went on:

'"County Kildare, Ireland. Ay! May it please your illustrious Royal
Highness--The only sister of Grace Geraldine, now in glory with the
saints, implores your royal favour for the orphan boy that survives her.
Come from a long way off, in great distress of mind and body, she has no
friend but your highness and the Virgin Mary--that was well known never
deserted nor forsook them that stood true to your royal cause--and
being in want, and having no shelter or refuge, and seeing that Gerald
himself, with the blood in his veins that he has, and worthy of being
what your Royal Highness knows he is--"

'That's mighty delicately expressed, ye see, not to give offence,' said
the friar, with a most complacent smile at his dexterity--

'"----hasn't as much as a