“Has it not been the same in every land that ever struck a blow for liberty?” said the Abbé. “Is it the statesman or the philosopher who have racked their brains and wasted their faculties in thought for the good of their fellow-men that have gone forth to battle? or is it not rather the host of unquiet spirits who infest every country, and who seek in change the prosperity that others pursue in patient industry? Some are enthusiastic for freedom, some seek a field of personal distinction, some are mere freebooters; but whatever they be, the cause remains the same.” “You may be right,----for all I know you _are_ right,” said Norwood, doggedly; “but, for my own part, I have no fancy to fight shoulder to shoulder with cut-throats and housebreakers, even though the Church should have hallowed them with its blessing.” Norwood arose as he said this, And walked impatiently up and down the chamber. “When do you propose to return to the army, my Lord?” said D'Esmonde, after a pause. “I'm not sure; I don't even know if I shall return at all!” said Norwood, hastily. “I see little profit and less glory in the service! What say you, Morlache? Have they the kind of credit you would like to accept for a loan?” “No, my Lord,” said the Jew, laughing; “Lombardy scrip would stand low in our market. I 'd rather advance my moneys on the faith of your good friend the Lady Hester Onslow.” Norwood bit his lip and colored, but made no reply. “She has crossed into Switzerland, has she not?” asked D'Esmonde, carelessly. “Gone to England!” said the Viscount, briefly. “When----how? I never heard of that,” said the Abbé. “I have put off writing to her from day to day, never suspecting that she was about to quit the Continent.” “Nor did she herself till about a week ago, when Sir Stafford took an equally unexpected departure for the other world--” “Sir Stafford dead! Lady Hester a widow!” “Such is, I believe, the natural course of things for a woman to be when her husband dies.” “A rich widow, too, I presume, my Lord?” said the Abbé, with a quiet but subtle glance at Norwood. “That is more than she knows herself at this moment, I fancy; for they say that Sir Stafford has involved his bequests with so many difficulties, and hampered them with such a mass of conditions, that whether she will be a millionnaire or be actually poor must depend upon the future. I can answer for one point, however, Abbé,” said he, sarcastically; “neither the Sacred College nor the blessed brethren of the 'Pace' are like to profit by the banker's economies.” “Indeed, my Lord,” said the Abbé, slowly, while a sickly pallor came over his countenance. “He has left a certain Dr. Grounsell his executor,” continued Norwood; “and, from all that I can learn, no-man has less taste for painted windows, stoles, or saints' shin-bones.”