The moment he was gone, Walter de la Tremblade came forth again, and with a quick step went on, through the stone hall, across the court, and entered the chapel. There, with haste and agitation, he lighted a lamp that stood in the sacristy, returned, shading the flame with his hand, and, traversing the hall in another direction, passed through a low arch and along a narrow passage, which led him to the foot of a small staircase. Then taking two steps at a time, he mounted rapidly to the highest story of the château, where two or three rooms were seen on either hand. Through the key-hole of one streamed a light, and voices were heard talking. "Ay, there wait her witnesses," murmured the priest; and, proceeding he turned into a passage on the left, and listened at a door. All was still; and, setting down the lamp, he raised the latch and entered. It was a low ill-furnished room, where slept the page, and one of the servants of the Marchioness of Chazeul, in beds not large enough to hold more than a single person. At the first pallet the priest stopped; and shading his eyes with his hand, as if to concentrate the little light that found its way in at the door, which he had left open, he gazed upon the countenance of the sleeping man. Then, going on, he touched the page gently with his hand. The boy slept soundly, however, and the priest had to stir him once more before he woke. Then whispering "Hush!" he added, "Get up, Philip. There is business for you to do." "Ah! what is it, father?" said the boy, rubbing his eyes, still heavy with sleep: "is anything the matter?" "Do not speak so loud," replied father Walter; "there is no need to wake any one else. The Marchioness has chosen you to ride for something that both she and I may have occasion to see; and you must mount and away to Chazeul immediately, so as to be back before nine to-morrow, when the burial of the old Commander de Liancourt is to take place. Are you awake enough to understand me?" "Oh, yes, yes," answered the page yawning, "I understand quite well. I wish she had chosen another hour. At home, we can never count upon half a night's sleep: she is as restless as the wind; and it is to be the same thing here, it seems. But what am I to bring?" "A certain precious book of Hours," replied the priest, "which has been long in the family of La Tremblade. You will find it in the room which my niece, Mademoiselle de la Tremblade, used to occupy." He paused upon the words, to show the boy that he was aware of Helen's absence from the Château of Chazeul, and then continued, "You will know the book, if you should find others there, by its being covered with crimson velvet, with silver clasps and studs. Bring it at once to me; and let no one else see it." "But will that old tiger of a gouvernante let me have it?" asked the page: "she will not let one of us set foot in any room beyond the hall."