hey are
title-deeds fortune never fails to adduce when better times come round.'

'And do you really still believe in such, Massoni? Tell me, in the
sincerity of man to man, without disguise, and, if you can, without
prejudice--do you continue to cherish hopes of this youth's fortune?'

'I have never doubted of them for a moment, sir,' said the Pere
confidently. 'So long as I saw him weak and broken, with weary looks and
jaded spirits, I felt the time to be distant; but when I beheld him
in the full vigour of his manly strength, I knew that his hour was
approaching; it needed but the call, the man was ready.'

'Ah! Massoni, if I had thought so--if I but thought so,' burst out
the Cardinal, as he leaned his head on his hand, and lapsed into deep
reflection.

The wily Pere never ventured to break in upon a course of thought, every
motive of which contributed to his own secret purpose. He watched him
therefore, closely, but in silence. At last Caraffa, lifting up his
head, said--

'I have been thinking over this mission of Delia Rocca, Massoni, and it
were perhaps as well--at least it will look kindly--were I to go over
to Orvieto myself, and speak with the Chevalier before he receives him.
Detain the Count, therefore, till you hear from me; I shall start in the
morning.' The Pere bowed, and after a few moments withdrew.

CHAPTER XVII. THE GARDEN AT ORVIETO

Soon after daybreak on the following morning the Cardinal's courier
arrived at Orvieto with tidings that his Eminence might be expected the
same evening. It was a rare event, indeed, which honoured the villa with
a visit from its princely owner; and great was the bustle and stir of
preparation to receive him. The same activity prevailed within doors and
without. Troops of men were employed in the gardens, on the terraces,
and the various pleasure-grounds; while splendid suites of rooms, never
opened but on such great occasions, were now speedily got in readiness
and order.

Gerald wandered about amid this exciting turmoil, puzzled and confused.
How was it that he fancied he had once seen something of the very same
sort, exactly in the self-same place? Was this, then, another rush of
that imagination which so persisted in tormenting him, making life a
mere circle of the same events? As he moved from place to place, the
conviction grew only stronger and stronger: this seemed the very statue
he had helped to replace on its pedestal; here the very fountain h