"Oh, be wary, kinsman--be wary!" said the abbot, in a voice that betrayed increasing alarm. "The duke modestly asked me to aid in a little plot against my _own_ life, and made me several fair offers to lure me to his service against the king." "Offers, of what?" "Lands and titles." "He is liberal, as that Fell Spirit, who took our Lord unto the mountain top, and offered Him cities and empires, when he had not an inch of land to give--not even the mud that adhered to his cloven hoof. Oh, that I were now at Rome!" "But Murielle is to be made the tool--the victim of these desperate plotters--and you know it, father, you know it!" "Ah," said the abbot, with a groan, "there you sting my inmost heart." "Then how must _mine_ be stung? but you will enable me to meet--to console her?" "I--impossible!" "There is nothing impossible in it," continued Gray, with earnestness; "you must--you shall! Ah, I do not threaten you--I implore. Think of all we have suffered for each other; think of what we may yet be condemned to suffer, by those, whom Evil Fortune seems to have made the arbiters of our destiny." "'Tis very sad, and very true," replied the abbot, slowly, "but I _dare_ not." "You are a priest, and may dare anything," exclaimed Gray, passionately, "and here I swear, that if you do not take me to Murielle, or bring her to me--in short, if you do not enable us to meet, by all that we revere in heaven and on earth, and by the bones of St. Genevieve, I will cast myself in the earl's path, and brave him and his followers to the last; and you know what is sure to ensue _then_." "Your instant destruction." "Promise me--promise," urged Gray, in whose eyes the tears were starting as he pressed the hands of the old abbot. The latter was kind and gentle hearted, and loved his young kinsman too well to withstand his entreaties long; he felt his resolution waver, and strangely enough became a little irritated. "By St. Bryde, of Douglas, I would we had never met," he exclaimed; "although Sir Patrick, the sequel might have been the worse for you." "Where does she reside?" "With the earl and countess," replied the abbot, briefly. "Of course," said Gray, impatiently, "but, where are they?" "In a house belonging to the Dyck Graf, and adjoining the great church and the college of canons. I am to-night to bring her--" "Where, father--where?" "To this church of St. Genevieve." "Oh, how happy was the chance that brought me hither! You will allow me to go with you?" "Impossible--never; by my habit, my order--" "Why--why?" "Your relations with her, and my office--" "Your office will protect us; it is ordained that you should succour those in distress, and Murielle and I are both in need of succour. Father Abbot--dear kind friend, you agree." "Be then silent and wary, and meet me at the porch here, at the hour of seven this evening," replied the abbot, suddenly giving way.