f astonishment, were, perhaps,
enough to disconcert a person not already very sure of his reception.

"Am I dreaming?" muttered Heron to himself, as he cast the book to the
ground, and rose to his feet. "One would think that George Sand's
visionary young monk had walked straight out of the book into my room.
Begging, I suppose. Good evening. You have called on behalf of some
charity, I suppose? Come nearer to the fire; it is a cold night."

The stranger--a young man in a black cassock--bowed courteously, and
seated himself in the chair that Percival pointed out. He then spoke in
English, but with a foreign accent, which did not sound unpleasantly in
Heron's ears.

"I have not come on behalf of any charity," he said, "but I come in the
interests of justice."

"The same thing, I suppose, in the long run," Percival remarked to
himself. "But what a fine face the beggar has! He's been ill lately, or
else he is half-starved--shall I give him some whisky and a pipe? I
suppose he would feel insulted!"

While he made these reflections, he replied politely that he was always
pleased to serve the interests of justice, offered his guest a glass of
wine (chiefly because he looked so thin and pale)--an offer which was
smilingly rejected--then crossed his legs, looked up to the ceiling, and
awaited in silent resignation the pitiful story which he was sure that
this young monk had come to tell.

But, after a troubled glance at Mr. Heron's face, (which had a
peculiarly reckless and defiant expression by reason of the tossed hair,
the habitual frown and the bristles on his chin), the visitor began to
speak in a very different strain from the one which Percival had
expected.

"I have come," he said, "on affairs which concern yourself and your
family; and, therefore, I most heartily beg your pardon if I appear to
you an insolent intruder, speaking of matters which it does not concern
me to know."

His formal English sentences were correct enough, but seemed to be
constructed with some difficulty. Percival's eyes came down from the
ceiling and rested upon his thin, pale face with lazy curiosity.

"I should not have thought that my affairs would be particularly
interesting to you," he said.

"But there you are wrong, they interest me very much," said the young
man, with much vivacity. His dark eyes glowed like coals of fire as he
proceeded. "There is scarcely anyone whose fortunes are of so much
significance to me."

"I am muc