The veiled attendant drew back and waved her hand, and some one glided forward, and said in a low, soft voice, “You have not forgotten me?” And Lothair beheld Monsignore Catesby. “It is a long time since we met,” said Lothair, looking at him with some scrutiny, and then all interest died away, and he turned away his vague and wandering eyes. “But you know me?” “I know not where I am, and I but faintly comprehend what has happened,” murmured Lothair. “You are among friends,” said the monsignore, in tones of sympathy. “What has happened,” he added, with an air of mystery, not unmixed with a certain expression of ecstasy in his glance, “must be reserved for other times, when you are stronger, and can grapple with such high themes.” “How long have I been here?” inquired Lothair, dreamily. “It is a month since the Annunciation.” “What Annunciation?” “Hush!” said the monsignore, and he raised his finger to his lip. “We must not talk of these things—at least at present. No doubt, the same blessed person that saved you from the jaws of death is at this moment guarding over your recovery and guiding it; but we do not deserve, nor does the Church expect, perpetual miracles. We must avail ourselves, under Divine sanction, of the beneficent tendencies of Nature; and in your case her operations must not be disturbed at this moment by any excitement, except, indeed, the glow of gratitude for celestial aid, and the inward joy which must permeate the being of any one who feels that he is among the most favored of men.” From this time Monsignore Catesby scarcely ever quitted Lothair. He hailed Lothair in the morn, and parted from him at night with a blessing; and in the interval Catesby devoted his whole life, and the inexhaustible resources of his fine and skilled intelligence, to alleviate or amuse the existence of his companion. Sometimes he conversed with Lothair, adroitly taking the chief burden of the talk; and yet, whether it were bright narrative or lively dissertation, never seeming to lecture or hold forth, but relieving the monologue, when expedient, by an interesting inquiry, which he was always ready in due time to answer himself, or softening the instruction by the playfulness of his mind and manner. Sometimes he read to Lothair, and attuned the mind of his charge to the true spiritual note by melting passages from Kempis or Chrysostom. Then he would bring a portfolio of wondrous drawings by the mediaeval masters, of saints and seraphs, and accustom the eye and thought of Lothair to the forms and fancies of the court of heaven. One day, Lothair, having risen from his bed for the first time, and lying on a sofa in an adjoining chamber to that in which he had been so long confined, the monsignore seated himself by the side of Lothair, and, opening a portfolio, took out a drawing and held it before Lothair, observing his countenance with a glance of peculiar scrutiny.