“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 make the attempt;” murmured the other; and, his thoughts reverting to what had just passed, he continued to himself, “A pretty page, truly! and who, but a fool, or a mad-cap, like myself, could have looked at those eyes once, and not know them again?”

“You are disturbed, young man,” said the priest, regarding him attentively; “and that disguise, for whatever purpose assumed, seems to sit but ill upon you.”

“You speak most truly, good father; but I hope to doff these tawdry garments before morning, if the saints prosper my undertaking.”

“Time is waning, my son, and that which you have to do, do quickly; the dawn of day must not find you lingering here, if your safety and honor are dear to you.”