"Now, Dixie," said the young man, while a very anxious expression for the first time showed itself in his face, "I want you to do me a kindness--a kindness that will tie me to you all the days of my life. It is something, but not much; chiefly that you will have to keep a secret, and take some little trouble, which I know you don't mind; but nothing serious, not the slightest irregularity, a trifle, I assure you, and chiefly, as I said, that you will have to keep a secret for me." Dixie also looked a good deal graver as he bowed his acquiescence, trying to smile on, and still sliding his hands softly, one over the other. "I know you guess what it is--no matter--we'll not discuss it, dear Dixie; it's quite past that now. You'll have to make a little trip for me--you'll not mind it; only across what you used to call the herring-pond; and you must wait at the Silver Lion at Caen; it is the best place there--I wish it was better--not a soul will you see--I mean English, no one but quite French people; and there is quite amusement, for a day or so, in looking over the old town. Just wait there, and I'll let you know everything before you have been two days there. I've got your passport; you shall have no trouble. And you need not go to a bank; there's gold here; and you'll keep it, and spend it for me till I see you; and you must go _to-day_." "And, of course, I know it is nothing _wrong_, my dear Cleve; but we are told to avoid even the _appearance_ of evil. And in any case, I should not, of course, for the world offend your uncle--Lord Verney, I may call him now--the head of the family, and my very kind patron; for I trust I never forget a kindness; and if it should turn out to be anything which by any chance he might misinterpret, I may reckon upon your religious silence, my dear Cleve, as respects my name?" "Silence! of course--I'd die before I should tell, under any pressure. I think you know I can keep a secret, and my own especially. And never trust my honour more if your name is ever breathed in connexion with any little service you may render me." He pressed the Rev. Isaac Dixie's hand very earnestly as he spoke. "And now, will you kindly take charge of this for me, and do as I said?" continued Cleve, placing the gold in Dixie's not unwilling hand. "And on this paper I have made a note of the best way--all about the boat and the rest; and God bless you, my dear Dixie, good-bye." "And God bless _you_, my dear Cleve," reciprocated the clergyman, and they shook hands again, and the clergyman smiled blandly and tenderly; and as he closed the door, and crossed the hall, grew very thoughtful, and looked as if he were getting into a possible mess. Cleve, too, was very pale as he stood by the window, looking into the sooty garden at the back of Verney House. CHAPTER XIV. OVER THE HERRING-POND.