though we must continue sensible of a shock.  She was the Miss Adister; and how, and why?  No one else accompanied them on their march to the dinner-table.  Patrick pursued his double task of hunting his thousand speculations and conversing fluently, so that it is not astonishing if, when he retired to his room, the impression made on him by this young Caroline was inefficient to distinguish her from the horde of her baptismal sisters.  And she had a pleasant face:  he was able to see that, and some individuality in the look of it, the next morning; and then he remembered the niceness of her manners.  He supposed her to have been educated where the interfusion of a natural liveliness with a veiling retenue gives the title of lady.  She had enjoyed the advantage of having an estimable French lady for her governess, she informed him, as they sauntered together on the terrace.

‘A Protestant, of course,’ Patrick spoke as he thought.

’Madame Dugue is a Catholic of Catholics, and the most honourable of women.’

‘That I’ll believe; and wasn’t for proselytisms,’ said he.

‘Oh, no:  she was faithful to her trust.’

‘Save for the grand example!’

‘That,’ said Caroline, ’one could strive to imitate without embracing her faith.’

‘There’s my mind clear as print!’ Patrick exclaimed.  ’The Faith of my fathers! and any pattern you like for my conduct, if it’s a good one.’

Caroline hesitated before she said:  ’You have noticed my Uncle Adister’s prepossession; I mean, his extreme sensitiveness on that subject.’

‘He blazed on me, and he seemed to end by a sort of approval.’

She sighed.  ‘He has had cause for great unhappiness.’

‘Is it the colonel, or the captain?  Forgive me!’

Her head shook.

‘Is it she?  Is it his daughter?  I must ask!’

‘You have not heard?’

Oh! then, I guessed it,’ cried Patrick, with a flash of pride in his arrowy sagacity.  ’Not a word have I heard, but I thought it out for myself; because I love my brother, I fancy.  And now, if you’ll be so good, Miss Caroline, let me beg, it’s just the address, or the city, or the country—­where she is, can you tell me?—­just whereabouts!  You’re surprised:  but I want her address, to be off, to see her; I’m anxious to speak to her.  It’s anywhere she may be in a ring, only show me the ring, I’ll find her, for I’ve a load; and there’s nothing like that for sending you straight, though it’s in the dark; it acts like an instinct.  But you know the clear address, and won’t let me be running blindfold.  She’s on the Continent and has been a long time, and it was the capital of Austria, which is a Catholic country, and they’ve Irish blood in the service there, or they had.  I could drop on my knees to you!’

The declaration was fortunately hushed by a supplicating ardour, or Mr. Adister would have looked more surprised than his niece.  He stepped out of the library window as they were passing, and, evidently with a mind occupied by his own affairs, held up an opened letter for Caroline’s perusal.  She took a view of the handwriting.