g up Philip's spirits, and saving him from
despondency.

CHAPTER XXXIX. THE PEDLAR'S PREDICTION

But if ne'er so close you wall him,
Do the best that you may;
Blind Love, if so you call him,
Will find out his way.
--OLD SONG

'Too late,' muttered Berenger to himself, as he stood by the fire in his
prison-chamber. Humfrey and Philip were busy in the vaults, and he was
taking his turn in waiting in the sitting-room to disarm suspicion. 'It
is too late now, and I thank God that so it is.'

'Do you indeed, M. le Baron?' said a low voice close beside him; and,
as he turned in haste, he beheld, at the foot of the turret-stair,
the youth Aime de Selinville, holding a dark lantern in his hand, and
veiling its light.

'Ha!' and he started to his feet. 'Whence come you?'

'From my Lady,' was the youth's answer. 'She has sent me to ask whether
you persist in what you replied to her the other day. For if not, she
bids me say that it is not too late.'

'And if I do persevere?'

'Then--ah! what do I know? Who can tell how far malice can go? And
there are towers and bastilles where hope never enters. Moreover, your
researches underground are known.'

'Sir,' said Berenger, the heart-sinking quelled by the effort of
resistance, 'Madame de Selinville has my answer--I must take the
consequences. Tell her, if she truly wishes me well, the honourable way
of saving us would be to let our English friends know what has befallen
us.'

'You forget, M. le Baron, even if she could proclaim the dishonour of
her family, interference from a foreign power might only lead to a surer
mode of removing you,' said Aime, lowering his voice and shuddering.

'Even so, I should thank her. Then would the bitterest pang be taken
away. Those at our home would not deem us faithless recreants.'

'Thank her!' murmured the lad in an inward voice. 'Very well, sir, I
will carry her your decision. It is your final one. Disgrace, prison,
death--rather than freedom, love, wealth!'

'The semblance of dishonour rather than the reality!' said Berenger,
firmly.

The light-footed page disappeared, and in a few moments a very different
tread came up from below, and Philip appeared.

'What is it, Berry? Methought I heard a voice.'

'Forgive me, brother,' said Berenger, holding out his hand; 'I have
thrown away another offer.'

'Tush, the thing to pardon would be having accepted one. I only wish