est!' Strange and significant words from
one who held that order in depreciation, and could even dare to avow
this estimate to one of themselves.

These words never left Gerald's mind; they flashed across him as he
awoke of a morning; they broke upon him as he lay thinking in his bed;
they mingled with his speculations on the future; and, more fatally
still, came to his memory at moments when, seated at his side, she
inspired hopes of a glorious destiny. Again and again did he ask
himself, how was it that esteeming him thus she was willing to join
her fate to his? And the only answer was one still more wounding to his
self-love.

What if she should have totally misconstrued this weak, uncertain
nature? What if she should have misinterpreted this character so full of
indecision? How, if this would-be priest were to turn out one reckless
in daring, and indifferent to all consequences? How, if the next tidings
she were to hear of him were from some far-away country: some scene that
might show how cheaply he held the tinsel decoration of a mock station,
the miserable pretension to a rank he was never to enjoy! 'At all
events,' said he, 'they shall have matter for their speculations,
and shall not see me for some days to come!' And with this
determination--rather like the resolve of a pettish child than of a
grown man--he sauntered into the mill, where the miller was now busily
engaged.

'Your master's despatches have nothing very pressing in them, I see,'
said the miller; I scarcely thought to have met you this morning.'

'I have ample time at my disposal,' said Gerald; 'so that I can reach
St. Stephano some day within the coming week I shall be soon enough;
insomuch that I have half a mind to gratify the curiosity you have
excited in me and make a short ramble through the mountains yonder.'

'Nay, nay, leave that track to your left hand; follow the road by the
head of Lago Scuro, and don't run your neck into peril for nothing.'

'But you told me last night this Pastore was never cruel when it served
no purpose: that he was far readier to help a poor man than to rifle
him. What should I fear then?'

'That he might look into the palm of your hand and see that it was one
not much used to daily labour. If he but thought you a spy, _per Bacco!_
I 'd not be in your shoes for all the jewels in the Vatican!'

'Couldn't you manage to disguise me as one of your own people, and give
me some sort of a letter for him?'

'By