deepened momentarily as
the narrative proceeded.

"'How is Bianca?' he asked, upon its conclusion, the quiet tone telling
nothing of the profound solicitude that filled his breast.

"'Much the same,' returned Sara Vittoria, the mother.

"'A little better, I think,' said a weak but cheerful voice from the
next room. 'Maurice, how is your poor arm? come and tell me.'

"He rose and complied with the request.

"Bianca, the elder sister of Lucia, had been for a year or more the
betrothed of Maurice Laborie. He found her lying pale and languid upon a
couch.

"'What is it, Maurice?' she asked, presently, noticing his troubled
look.

"'I wish you were well, Bianca.'

"'Ah! I am more concerned about your wound.'

"His thoughts seemed far away. He rose hastily.

"'I must speak to your grandsire. I will be in again;' and he left the
room.

"Marc Rozel, the father of Sara Vittoria, a venerable, white-haired
veteran who had seen his four-score years and ten, sat at the open door
of the cottage, leaning upon his staff, his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon
the towering heights of Mount Vandelin.

"'"As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round
about His people from henceforth even forever,"' Maurice heard him
murmur as he drew near.

"There was comfort in the words, and the cloud of care partially lifted
from the brow of the young Vaudois. But accosting the aged saint with
deep respect, and bending down to speak close to his ear, he uttered a
few rapid sentences in an undertone.

"'There seems a threatening of danger, Father Rozel; evil-looking men,
such as Lucia and the lad were but now describing, have been seen coming
into the town for the last two or three days; till now, it is said, the
Romish church, the convent of Recollets, the house of the cure, and
several other Catholic houses are full of them. What errand think you
draws them hither just at this time, when nearly every able-bodied
Vaudois is absent on the frontier?' Rozel's face reflected somewhat of
the agitation and alarm in that of Maurice; but ere he could open his
lips to reply, a neighbor, a young woman with a child in her arms, came
rushing across the street, and calling to them in tones tremulous with
excitement and affright, told of the warning just brought by Brianza's
messenger.

"Her face was white with terror, and she clasped her infant to her
breast with a look of agony, as she asked, 'Can it be, oh can it be that
we are