"I sought you," said I; "that I might do so," and I proceeded to detail to Aubrey as much of my private intercourse with the Abbe as I deemed necessary in order to warn him from too close a confidence in the wily ecclesiastic. Aubrey listened to me with earnest attention: the affair of the letter; the gross falsehood of the priest in denying the mention of my name, in his epistle, evidently dismayed him. "But," said he, after a long silence,--"but it is not for us, Morton,--weak, ignorant, inexperienced as we are,--to judge prematurely of our spiritual pastors. To them also is given a far greater license of conduct than to us, and ways enveloped in what to our eyes are mystery and shade; nay, I know not whether it be much less impious to question the paths of God's chosen than to scrutinize those of the Deity Himself." "Aubrey, Aubrey, this is childish!" said I, somewhat moved to anger. "Mystery is always the trick of imposture: God's chosen should be distinguished from their flock only by superior virtue, and not by a superior privilege in deceit." "But," said Aubrey, pointing to a passage in the book before him, "see what a preacher of the word has said!" and Aubrey recited one of the most dangerous maxims in priestcraft, as reverently as if he were quoting from the Scripture itself. "'The nakedness of truth should never be too openly exposed to the eyes of the vulgar. It was wisely feigned by the ancients that Truth did lie concealed in a well!'" "Yes," said I, with enthusiasm, "but that well is like the holy stream at Dodona, which has the gift of enlightening those who seek it, and the power of illumining every torch which touches the surface of its water!" Whatever answer Aubrey might have made was interrupted by my uncle, who appeared approaching towards us with unusual satisfaction depicted on his comely countenance. "Well, boys, well," said he, when he came within hearing, "a holyday for you! Ods fish,--and a holier day than my old house has known since its former proprietor, Sir Hugo, of valorous memory, demolished the nunnery, of which some remains yet stand on yonder eminence. Morton, my man of might, the thing is done; the court is purified; the wicked one is departed. Look here, and be as happy as I am at our release;" and he threw me a note in Montreuil's writing:-- TO SIR WILLIAM DEVEREUX, KT.