“I tell thee, boy,” he said, “thou art in the broad way which leadeth to destruction.”

“Do you think so, father?” asked his companion, who was one of the torch-bearers, and still carried the blazing insignium of his office—­“and what shall I do, to find my way out of it?”

“Abjure the devil and his works, if thou art desirous of returning to the right path,” he replied.

“You mean the pope and the church, I suppose,” said the boy, in a tone of simplicity; “like my lady’s chaplain, who often edifies his hearers on this topic.”

“It would be well for thee to hearken to him, boy; and perchance it might prove a word in season to thy soul’s refreshment.”

“It has sometimes proved a refreshment to my body,” said the boy; “his exhortations are so ravishing, that they are apt to lull one to sound repose.”

“Thou art a flippant youth!” said the chaplain, stopping abruptly, and speaking in an accent of displeasure.  “But I pity thy delusion,” he added, after a brief pause, “and bid thee remember, that if thou hast access to the word, and turnest from it, thou can’st not make the plea of ignorance, in extenuation of thy crime.”

“It is no fault in me to believe as I have been taught,” said the boy, sullenly; “and it would ill become me, to dispute the doctrines which I have received from those who have a claim on my respect and obedience.”

“They are evil doctrines, child; perverse heresies to lead men astray, into the darkness of error and idolatry.”

“I could not have believed it!” answered the other, gravely; “I thought I was listening to the truth, from the lips of my lady’s chaplain.”

“And who says, that I do not teach the truth?  I, who have made it my study and delight from my youth upwards?”

“Not I, truly; but your reverence chides me for believing in error, when, my belief is daily confirmed by your own instructions and example.”

“Who are you, that presumes to say so? and, with these vestments of Satan on your back, to bear witness to your falsehood?” demanded the chaplain.

“Now may the saints defend me from your anger!  I did not mean to offend,” said the boy, shrinking from his extended hand, and bending his head, as if to count the beads of a rosary which hung around his neck.

“Did I teach you this mummery?” resumed the irritated Scot; “did I teach you to put on those robes of the devil, and hold that lighted torch to him, as you have but now done?”

“I crave your pardon,” returned the boy; “I thought it was my lady’s chaplain, whom I was lighting across the yard, but your reverence knows the truth better than I do.”

As he spoke, he waved the torch on high, and the light fell full upon the excited features of Mr. Broadhead.  A laugh from De Valette, who had, unobserved, drawn near enough to overhear them, startled both, and checked the angry reply, which was bursting from the chaplain’s lips.  He surveyed the intruder a moment in stubborn silence, then quietly retreated; probably aware, from former experience, that the gay young Catholic had not much veneration for his person or character.  The boy hastily extinguished his torch, murmuring, in a low voice,—­