d when his lips rested on it a moment longer than ceremony
required, and that some confusion appeared on her cheek and in her eye
as she withdrew it. Something might come of all this, and what brave
man, at Quentin Durward's age, but would gladly have taken the thoughts
which it awakened, into the considerations which were to determine his
conduct?

This point settled, he had next to consider in what degree he was to
use the farther guidance of the faithless Bohemian. He had renounced his
first thought of killing him in the wood, and, if he took another guide,
and dismissed him alive, it would be sending the traitor to the camp of
William de la Marck, with intelligence of their motions. He thought of
taking the Prior into his counsels, and requesting him to detain the
Bohemian by force, until they should have time to reach the Bishop's
castle, but, on reflection, he dared not hazard such a proposition to
one who was timid both as an old man and a friar, who held the safety of
his convent the most important object of his duty, and who trembled at
the mention of the Wild Boar of Ardennes.

At length Durward settled a plan of operation on which he could the
better reckon, as the execution rested entirely upon himself, and,
in the cause in which he was engaged, he felt himself capable of
everything. With a firm and bold heart, though conscious of the dangers
of his situation, Quentin might be compared to one walking under a load,
of the weight of which he is conscious, but which yet is not beyond his
strength and power of endurance. Just as his plan was determined, he
reached the convent.

Upon knocking gently at the gate, a brother, considerately stationed
for that purpose by the Prior, opened it, and acquainted him that the
brethren were to be engaged in the choir till daybreak, praying Heaven
to forgive to the community the various scandals which had that evening
taken place among them.

The worthy friar offered Quentin permission to attend their devotions,
but his clothes were in such a wet condition that the young Scot was
obliged to decline the opportunity, and request permission, instead,
to sit by the kitchen fire, in order to his attire being dried before
morning, as he was particularly desirous that the Bohemian, when they
should next meet, should observe no traces of his having been abroad
during the night. The friar not only granted his request, but afforded
him his own company, which fell in very happily wi