"`I condemned ye not, children of darkness,' said the priest, wiping away the blood from his eyes, and raising his tall, fine figure to its utmost height, his grey hair streaming on the wind. `I would have saved ye from the evil one, whose prey ye are. Ye cannot harm me,' and a smile of withering scorn settled down upon his lips. "From the skirts of the crowd to its centre, the whole became one seething, boiling mass. Knives gleamed in the sunshine. One moment Father Guy stood there, firm and erect, a smile of quiet scorn on his lips, and the fresh, breeze from the sea playing through his scanty grey hair and over his shaven crown; the next his body was whirling above men's heads, it was pulled to and fro, torn here and there, until at length it was rived, piecemeal, by the infuriated crowd, and the Roman Catholic faith died out with the House of Penrhyn in Creuddyn." The tale was told, the speaker ceased, and for a moment all was silence, for the story had been a melancholy one. The sharp angry bark of a dog was heard, then a step crushing the gravel as some one advanced. "The postman, Isabel," exclaimed Hughes, springing to his feet with renewed energy; "now for news!" But there was only a paper and one letter, and both bore the Calcutta postmark. "I know not a soul in the Presidency," said Hughes, as he turned the letter, which was a very bulky one, listlessly in his hand. "I dare say it will keep." "Well, if you find it so fatiguing to read your own letters, at least read me the paper." The soldier tore the band and flung it from him, shaking out the sheet, and then threw himself on the ground in the same indolent attitude. "What news will interest you, Isabel?" he asked; but before the reply could be given, his eye fell on the column headed "Latest Intelligence," and all traces of apathy disappeared as if by magic, the words "Massacre at Cawnpore," "Atrocities committed by Nana Sahib," meeting his eye. "Why, what is the matter, Enrico?" asked Isabel, laying down her work in alarm, for his eyes literally blazed with fury, as he snatched up the despised letter, and tore it open, reading therein the details of the terrible massacre of Cawnpore. "And where is Cawnpore?" asked Isabel. "It is a large station on the right bank of the Ganges, where a European force is generally quartered, and in whose neighbourhood a large number of my countrymen live. The native troops have revolted, murdered their English officers, while the trusted friend of the British, Nana Sahib, has seized the treasury, joined the rebels, and the revolt spreading, India has thrown off our rule, while the handful of English are being murdered piecemeal." "Surely, you mean killed in open warfare, Enrico? In our days people are not murdered wholesale," said Isabel, opening her eyes widely with horror and astonishment.