"Humph!" remarked the Baronet gravely. "Expelled from the Sacrament, was he? I don't like that, you know: it looks bad. I wish I had known this before I asked him to spend his Christmas here. Of course, for aught we know to the contrary, he may only have been guilty of some little trifle which we men of the world"--he swept his arm towards me as he spoke, and I felt quite proud of the title conferred on me--"think nothing of; but still it looks suspicious. A shade rests on his character, and till it be cleared off I would prefer him at any other table than mine. I ought to be certain that he is a person of fair repute--that is a duty I owe my guests; but I don't see what I can do now that matters have gone so far. I cannot, in the circumstances, ask him point-blank to produce a certificate of good character, so I must display the hospitality of the Orientals, and entertain the guest without inquiring too closely into his character." "'For thereby,'" quoted my uncle, "'some have entertained angels unawares.'" "You are not very likely to do that," I said to the Baronet, "and--" The sound of carriage-wheels rattling over the gravel-path beneath the library windows checked the rest of my remark. "That must be Angelo," said the Baronet, referring to his watch. "Talk of Lucifer," said I, rising, "and he rustles his wings. With your leave, Sir Hugh, I'll retire for the night. I've no wish to see Angelo till the morning." And with these words I departed, leaving the representative of the Wyvilles and the head of the house of Leslie to welcome, perhaps it would be more correct to write receive, the late comer. The bedroom allotted to me was, like those of the other guests, in the eastern wing of the Abbey, the western wing being appropriated to the servants' quarters. The front and central portions of the building contained the principal apartments; and the picture-gallery was at the rear on the ground-floor, connecting the two wings. My room was a large old-fashioned chamber, whose oaken panels were draped with figured tapestry. An oriel casement with lancet-shaped panes of stained-glass gave me a fine view of the moonlit park, with the Nuns' Tower--Angelo's studio--rising grey and solitary above a dark clump of cedars. There was a fire in the grate and its dancing caused strange shadows to quiver upon the walls and ceiling, seeming to invest the grim figures on the tapestry with life and motion--an illusion heightened by their rustling with the draught from the open door.