er to tak' thee. Bear a
hand, boatie, and in wi' him. There--there."

Spite of his struggles and imprecations, the stranger was impounded in
the boat, and Dick soon forced him to be quiet. They pushed off, and
in a short time gained the other shore. Here Dick, with that almost
instinctive sagacity which sometimes accompanies a disturbed state of
the intellects, would not allow his prisoner either to go back to the
island or remain in the boatman's custody, but secured him to his own
person, setting off at a brisk pace towards the abbey. In vain the
stranger told him that he had business of great moment at the castle;
that he was a page of the court, and on the eve of a secret mission
from the priest, who was now waiting for him with the despatches. Dick
resolved, with his usual cunning it seems, to conceal his possession
of these documents, and, at the same time, to prevent the real
messenger from revealing the deception by his appearance at the
castle.

It was past midnight; yet the abbot and several of the brethren were
still assembled in close council. The importance of the events that
were unfolding, and in which their own line of conduct was to be
firmly marked out and adhered to, necessarily involving much
deliberation and discussion, had kept them beyond their usual hour of
retirement.

A bell rung at the outer gate, and shortly afterwards one of the
brotherhood in waiting announced that two men were without, craving
audience, and that one of them, when asked his name, answered
"Warwick."

"Ah!" said the bewildered abbot, with a sudden gleam of wonder and
gladness on his countenance--"does he come hither? then is our
deliverance nearer than we hoped for, even from the special favour and
interference of Heaven. Admit them instantly."

But in a little while the messenger came back in great dudgeon to say
that the knave who had demanded admittance with such a peremptory
message was none other than Dick Empson, the errand boy to the abbey.
"What can possess him," continued the monk, "I greatly marvel; for he
still persists in demanding audience, saying that he is 'Warwick.' He
refers to some message from the castle with which he is charged, but
he refuses to deliver it save into the hands of the reverend abbot
himself. Furthermore, he has brought a prisoner, he sayeth, and will
have him taken into safe custody."

"Why, bring him hither," said the abbot; "there's little harm can come
by it. He has a shrewd an