d the page, "perhaps her young companion has
less discretion in her choice of confidants."

"Ha!" said the stranger, starting, and changing colour, in spite of his
tawny disguise; "what say you of _her_? speak; and speak truly, for I
shall soon know if thou art false, from her own lips."

"_Her_ lips will never contradict _my_ words," returned the boy; "but
go, take the pass-word, enter the fort, and see--you will not find her
there."

"Not find her there?" he repeated in astonishment, and with a bewildered
air; then suddenly grasping the page's arm, he said, in no gentle tone,

"Now, by my faith, boy, you test my patience beyond endurance; if I
thought you were deceiving me"--

He stopped abruptly, and withdrew his hand, as a laugh, which he could
no longer repress, burst from the lips of Hector, and at the same
instant the heavy cloak fell from his shoulders to the ground.

"What mountebank trick is this?" demanded the stranger, angrily; but, as
his eye glanced over the figure of the page, his countenance rapidly
changed, and in an altered tone, he exclaimed,

"By the holy rood, you are"--

"Hush!" interrupted Hector, quickly pressing his finger on the other's
lips; and, with a feeling of instinctive dread, he pointed to father
Gilbert, who was approaching, and in a moment stood calmly and silently
beside them. As the young man turned to scan the person of the priest,
Hector hastily gathered his cloak around him, and before they were aware
of his intention, fled from the spot, and was soon secure within the
walls of the fort. The pretended Indian would have pursued, when he
perceived the page's flight, but his steps were arrested by the nervous
grasp of the priest.

"Loose your hold, sirrah!" he said, impatiently; but instantly
recollecting himself, added, with a gesture of respect, "Pardon me, holy
father, my mind was chafed with its own thoughts, or I should not have
forgotten the reverence due to your character and office."

"Know you that boy?" asked the priest, in a tremulous voice, and without
appearing to notice his apology.

"I once knew him well," returned the other, looking at the monk in
surprise; "a few months since, we were companions in the fort of St.
John's. But why do you question me thus?"

"Ask me not," returned the priest, resuming his habitual calmness; "but,
as well might you pursue the wind, as seek to overtake that light-footed
page."

"You have kept me till it is too late to ma