f my words were wild and
vain; were there other means I would not speak them--but he must be
saved!"

"And again at the sacrifice of thy safety--perchance thy life! Marie,
Marie! what hold has this young stranger upon thee that thou shouldest
twice so peril thyself? Thy life is dearer to me than his--I cannot
grant thy boon."

"Nay, but thou must. Listen to me, my second father! If Stanley dies,
his blood is on my head!" And struggling with strong emotion, she
poured forth her whole tale.

"And thou lovest him still--him, a Nazarene--thou, child, wife, of an
unstained race! And is it for this, thy zeal to save him?" ejaculated
Julien, retreating several paces from her--"Can it be?"

"I would save him because he is innocent--because he has borne more
than enough for me; for aught else, thou wrongest me, father. He will
never be to me more than he is now."

It was impossible to resist the tone of mournful reproach in which
those simple words were said. Julien pressed her to his bosom, bade
God bless her, and promised, if indeed there were no other means, her
plan should be adopted; objection after objection, indeed, he brought
forward, but all were overruled. She pledged herself to retain her
disguise, and to return with Perez, without hesitation, and accompany
her uncle to the vale, as intended. But that she should start at once,
he positively refused. How could she hope to accomplish her journey
without, at least, two hours' repose? It was then late in the evening.
At six the next morning all should be ready for her journey, and there
would be still more than twenty-four hours before her; Marie tried to
be content, but the horrible dread of being too late did not leave her
for a moment, even in sleep, and inexpressibly thankful was she when
the morning dawned. Julien's provident care had been active while
she slept. Perez, flattered at the trust reposed in him, had offered
himself to accompany the young novice to Segovia: and at the appointed
hour he was ready, mounted himself, and leading a strong, docile
palfrey for brother Ernest's use. He knew an hostellerie, he said,
about twenty miles from the city, where their steeds could be changed;
and promised by two hours after noon, the very latest, the novice
should be with the King. It could be done in less time, he said; but
his reverence had told him the poor boy was unusually delicate, and
had, moreover, lost the use of his left arm; and he thought, as there
was