“Oh, Christ, this one—­unworthy, yet I beseech Thee—­Be merciful, O Virgin—­out of the wilderness ariseth the voice of Thy servant—­purge the soul of all past iniquity—­yield me this one brand plucked from the burning—­Thine be the glory forever—­let my life be given for this soul—­this one precious reward for my ministry.”

A little later the three of us partook, although largely in silence, of the sustaining food which Cairnes furnished in abundance.  Throughout the meal I felt it necessary to be ever watchful to prevent the two zealots, who were now my comrades, from clashing.  Again and again the priest sought to lead the sectary to his way of thinking, but the gray face only hardened ominously, his bull voice denouncing bitterly all Romish deeds.

“Come, be at peace, you two,” I commanded at last, thoroughly tired and angry.  “Hold your tongues over those questions, at least while I am with you.  Odds!  I care nothing as to your Catholic or Protestant, your popes or preachers.  Be done, and bear yourselves like men.  I will no longer have you vexing the air with controversy while our very lives are hanging by a thread.  There are other things to talk about just now.  So, Cairnes, if you cannot bide quietly in our company, then stay here alone while I take the Jesuit out into the sunlight, where we can hold sensible counsel together.”

Leaving the fellow growling to himself over the remnants of the meal, I bore the priest along the short passage, until we discovered a secure, comfortable resting-place outside, where our eyes could sweep the full extent of the wide valley.  It was a quietly beautiful scene at this hour, the glow of the sun over all.  We could distinguish gangs of slaves toiling in the fields, and a group of warriors, their spears glistening, clustered together before the gloomy altar-house.  Yet my eyes barely rested upon either scene, for there, close beside the open door of the Queen’s dwelling, my glance, sharpened by love, perceived the movements of a woman’s apparel, and from the faint color of it, distinguishable, even at that distance in the sun glare, I knew I looked once more upon Eloise.  It would be difficult to express in prosaic English with what intense relief I realized, through the evidence of my own eyes, her continued safety.  It seemed years already since our last parting, when she had chosen to remain prisoner in those savage hands.  Father of all! how I loved her then; how I yearned to have word with her, to read again the silent message of her pure eyes.

The priest was gazing silently far away up the valley.  Busied with my own thoughts, forgetting him utterly, I kept my eyes eagerly, hungrily upon that single, far-off figure, until, finally, I saw her arise and disappear within the open door.  I growled forth a bitter curse, observing the cause for retreat—­a man and a woman slowly climbing the mound together.  There was no doubt in my mind as to the identity of the Queen and De Noyan.  Faith! but it would have pleased me then to put hand upon the false coxcomb and choke him back to decency and duty.  The look of it was in my face, no doubt, as I stared down upon them in helplessness, for the Jesuit rested his fingers gently upon my arm, as though he would restrain my passion.