tion was a brotherhood,
even had she not been the window of one he had loved and lamented.

'Ah! sir, it does me good to hear you say so.'

And therewith Eustacie remembered the hospitalities of her loft. She
perceived by the tones of the old man's voice that he was tired, and
probably fasting, and she felt about for the milk and bread with which
she had been supplied. It was a most welcome refreshment, though he only
partook sparingly; and while he ate, the two, so strangely met, came to
a fuller knowledge of one another's circumstances.

Master Isaac Gardon had, it appeared, been residing at Paris, in the
house of the watchmaker whose daughter had been newly married to his
son; but on the fatal eve of St. Bartholomew, he had been sent for to
pray with a sick person in another quarter of the city. The Catholic
friends of the invalid were humane, and when the horrors began, not only
concealed their kinsman, but almost forcibly shut up the minister in
the same cellar with him. And thus, most reluctantly, had he been spared
from the fate that overtook his son and daughter-in-law. A lone and
well-night broken-hearted man, he had been smuggled out of the city,
and had since that time been wandering from one to another of the many
scattered settlements of Huguenots in the northern part of France,
who, being left pastorless, welcomed visits from the minister of their
religion, and passed him on from one place to another, as his stay in
each began to be suspected by the authorities. He was now on his way
along the west side of France, with no fixed purpose, except so far as,
since Heaven had spared his life when all that made it dear had been
taken from him, he resigned himself to believe that there was yet some
duty left for him to fulfil.

Meantime the old man was wearied out; and after due courtesies had
passed between him and the lady in the dark, he prayed long and
fervently, as Eustacie could judge from the intensity of the low murmurs
she heard; and then she heard him, with a heavy irrepressible sigh, lie
down on the couch of hay he had already prepared for himself, and soon
his regular breathings announced his sound slumbers. She was already on
the bed she had so precipitately quitted, and not a thought more did
she give to the Templars, living or dead, even though she heard an
extraordinary snapping and hissing, and in the dawn of the morning saw
a white weird thing, like a huge moth, flit in through the circular