"In so important and so righteous a cause, we must not stop at aught necessary to secure our purpose. But, tell me, think you that your husband will soon be here again?" "I should think not to-night, but to-morrow or the next he will be off; and if we can show the signals of surety he will land, if the weather will permit." "'Tis indeed time that I were over. Something might now be done." "I would so too, father; it is a tedious time that I have spent here." "And most unfitting for you, were it not that you laboured in a great cause; but it must soon be decided, and then that fair lily shall be transplanted, like a wild flower from the rock, and be nurtured in a conservatory." "Nay, for that, the time is hardly come. She is better here, as you see her, father, than in the chambers of a court. For her sake I would still remain; but for my husband's sake, and the perils he encounters, I wish that, one way or the other, it were decided." "Had there been faith in that Italian, it had been so before now," replied the priest, grinding his teeth, and turning away. But the conversation was closed at the appearance of some women who came out of the cave. They were variously clothed, some coarsely, and others with greater pretensions to finery: they brought with them the implements for cooking, and appeared surprised at the fire being already lighted. Among them was one about twenty-five years of age, and although more faded than she ought to have been at that early age, still with pretensions to almost extreme beauty. She was more gaily dressed than the others, and had a careless, easy air about her, which suited to her handsome slight figure. It was impossible to see her without being interested, and desiring to know who she was.