smile.

"I know your heart too well to misjudge. Yet it hurt me to feel you
could deem me thoughtless toward my father."

"You have seen him since his arrest?"

"Once only--at the Captain-General's office, before they were condemned
and taken aboard the flag-ship."

"But the prisoners are Catholics; surely they are permitted the offices
of the Church at such a time?"

A hard look swept across the Capuchin's pale, ascetic face.

"Oh, ay! I had quite forgotten," he explained bitterly. "They enjoy
the ministrations of Father Cassati, of our Order, as representative of
Holy Church."

"Pouf!" I muttered gloomily. "It is bad to have the guard-lines drawn
so closely. Besides, I know little about the way of ships; how they
are arranged within, or even along the open decks. We meet them not in
the backwoods, so this is an adventure little to my taste. It would
hardly be prudent, even could I obtain safe footing there, to attempt
following a trail in the dark when I knew not where it led. I must
either see the path I am to travel by good daylight, or else procure a
guide. This Father Cassati might answer. Is he one to trust?"

The priest turned his head away with a quick gesture of indignant
dissent.

"Nay!" he exclaimed emphatically. "He must never be approached upon
such a matter. He can be sweet enough with all men to their faces; the
words of his mouth are as honey; yet he would be true to none. It is
not according to the canons of our Order for me thus to speak, yet I
only give utterance to truth as I know it in the sight of God. Not
even the Spaniards themselves have faith in him. He has not been
permitted to set foot upon shore since first he went aboard."

"And you have no plan, no suggestion to offer for my guidance?"

"Mon Dieu, no!" he cried dramatically. "I cannot think the first
thing."

"And you, Madame?"

She was kneeling close beside a large chair, her fine dark eyes eagerly
searching my face.

"It rests wholly with you," she said solemnly, "and God."

Twice, three times, I paced slowly across the floor in anxious
reflection; each time, as I turned, I gazed again into her trustful,
appealing eyes. It was love calling to me in silent language far more
effective than speech; at last, I paused and faced her.

"Madame de Noyan," I said deliberately, my voice seeming to falter with
the intensity of my feelings, "I beg you do not expect too much from
me. Your appeal has been made t