they become a
part of thyself, and the path that leads to a bloody grave shall be
strewed with roses. Be the motto of our order forever before thine
eyes. From the mystical words in _majorem gloriam Dei_, shall beam a
light brighter and more blessed than that of the sun, for it flows
from the throne of the Eternal."

With suggestions and arguments like these did the enthusiastic father
endeavor to animate and confirm the less exalted resolution of his
fellow-laborer. Nor were they without an influence. As the thirsty
traveller, faint and worn with the toil and heat of the day, drinks of
the refreshing spring, and bathes his brow in its cooling waters, and
goes strengthened on his way, so did the Knight derive vigor from his
words.

At their last meeting, Father Le Vieux announced the conclusion to
which he had persuaded the Taranteens.

"Hostilities at the present time were premature," he said. "The tribes
are not sufficiently united to make head, with all the assistance we
can afford, against the heretics. We will wait awhile, until the
present supposed outrage is followed by another--and, in the position
and temper of the English, it is inevitable--which shall rouse other
tribes. Be sure, the Taranteens will not forget. The war-whoop must
sound simultaneously, from the Kennebec to the mouth of the
Connecticut, or our labor will be worse than lost. Meanwhile, a great
advantage has been gained. A gulf is now between the proud Englishman
and the Taranteen, over which neither will pass. Your report, then, to
them who sent you will be peace. Thus will their confidence in you and
your influence be increased." [At the same time the father gave a
letter for Sister Celestina.] "Tell her," he continued, "of my
admiration of her devotion. Blessed be she among women!"

Thus they parted, the priest to return to his self-sacrificing labors
among the Indians, at no distant period to end in that crown of
martyrdom after which his soul panted, and the Knight to his post of
observation near the English colony.

CHAPTER XXII.

"So full of passion were his amorous glances,
So artfully the wicked jade dissembled,
So well each sighed ridiculous romances,
That for them both, I vow, I fairly trembled."

ANONYMOUS.

During the absence of the Knight and his young friend, events had
occurred which require us to shift the scene of our theatre to Boston
and its environs.

The indefatigable Spikeman continued to