"Father," she said, "show me some mercy." Then, suddenly clasping her hands: "HAVE PITY ON HIM, AND ON ME." This time Nature herself seemed to speak, and the eloquent cry went clean through the priest's heart. "Ah!" said he; and his own voice trembled a little: "now you are as strong as your cunning was weak. Come, I see how it is with you; and I am human, and have been young, and a lover into the bargain, before I was a priest. There, dry thy eyes, child, and go to thy room; he thou couldst not trust shall bear the brunt for thee this once." Then Kate bowed her fair head and kissed the horrid paw of him that had administered so severe but salutary a pat. She hurried away up stairs, right joyful at the unexpected turn things had taken. Father Francis, thus converted to her side, lost no time; he walked into the dining-room and told Neville he had bad news for him. "Summon all your courage, my young friend," said he, with feeling, "and remember that this world is full of disappointments." Neville said nothing, but rose and stood rather pale, waiting like a man for the blow. Its nature he more than half guessed: he had been at the window. * * * * * It fell. "She is engaged to Gaunt, since last night; and she loves him." "The double-faced jade!" cried Peyton, with an oath. "The heartless coquette!" groaned Neville. Father Francis made excuses for her: "Nay, nay, she is not the first of her sex that did not know her own mind all at once. Besides, we men are blind in matters of love; perhaps a woman would have read her from the first. After all, she was not bound to give us the eyes to read a female heart." He next reminded Neville that Gaunt had been her servant for years. "You knew that," said he, "yet you came between them----at your peril. Put yourself in his place: say you had succeeded: would not his wrong be greater than yours is now? Come, be brave; be generous; he is wounded, he is disinherited; only his love is left him: 'tis the poor man's lamb; and would you take it?" "O, I have not a word to say against the _man_," said George, with a mighty effort. "And what use is your quarrelling with the woman?" suggested the practical priest. "None whatever," said George, sullenly. After a moment's silence he rang the bell feverishly. "Order my horse round directly," said he. Then he sat down, and buried his face in his hands, and did not, and could not, listen to the voice of consolation. Now the house was full of spies in petticoats, amateur spies, that ran and told the mistress everything of their own accord, to curry favor. And this no doubt was the cause that, just as the groom walked the piebald out of the stable towards the hall door, a maid came to Father Francis with a little note: he opened it, and found these words written faintly, in a fine Italian hand:--