could reply the murmur of a voice near
at hand startled them both. Uncle Ulick's face fell, and the two turned
with a single movement to see who came.

They discerned, in the shadow of the wall of yew, two men, who had just
passed through the wicket into the garden.

The strangers saw them at the same moment, and were equally taken by
surprise. The foremost of the two, a sturdy, weather-beaten man, with a
square, stern face and a look of power, laid his hand on his
cutlass--he wore a broad blade in place of the usual rapier. The other,
whom every line of his shaven face, as well as his dress, proclaimed a
priest--and perhaps more than a priest--crossed himself, and muttered
something to his companion. Then he came forward.

"You take the air early, gentlemen," he said, the French accent very
plain in his speech, "as we do. If I mistake not," he continued,
looking with an easy smile at Colonel John, "your Protestant kinsman,
of whom you told me, Mr. Sullivan? I did not look to meet you, Colonel
Sullivan; but I do not doubt you are man of the world enough to excuse,
if you cannot approve, the presence of the shepherd among his sheep.
The law forbids, but----" still smiling, he finished the sentence with
a gesture in the air.

"I approve all men," Colonel John answered quietly, "who are in their
duty, father."

"But wool and wine that pay no duty?" the priest replied, turning with
a humorous look to his companion, who stood beside him unsmiling. "I'm
not sure that Colonel Sullivan extends the same indulgence to
free-traders, Captain Machin."

Colonel John looked closely at the man thus brought to his notice. Then
he raised his hat courteously. "Sir," he said, "the guests of the
Sullivans, whoever they be, are sacred to the Sullivans."

Uncle Ulick's eyes had met the priest's, as eyes meet in a moment of
suspense. At this he drew a deep breath of relief. "Well said," he
muttered. "Bedad, it is something to have seen the world!"

"You have served under the King of Sweden, I believe?" the ecclesiastic
continued, addressing Colonel John with a polite air. He held a book of
offices in his hand, as if his purpose in the garden had been merely to
read the service.

"Yes."

"A great school of war, I am told?"

"It may be called so. But I interrupt you, father, and with your
permission I will bid you good-morning. Doubtless we shall meet again."

"At breakfast, I trust," the ecclesiastic answered, with a certain air