"My Beloved Husband:—I think you will be glad to hear of me after my leaving you so shortly a few nights since. We have reached Turin in safety, and without accident; but it was a weary journey for me, as every step took me farther from the place where I wished to remain. We are going on to Venice in three days, and there I am to be placed with a Madame de la Cour, a cousin of the Duc de Rohan, and a distant relation, I am told, of my own. I am glad of it, for I cannot love the duchess. I trust this to the care of an Italian gentleman going to Aix. He passes for an astrologer; and Madame de Rohan, who is very superstitious, receives him with great distinction. She would fain have had him draw the horoscope of all the household, and we each had audiences apart. But I could tell him nothing of my own birth,—neither date, nor time, nor place. He, however, contrived to draw from me, before I well knew it, something of my history, and has promised to take this and deliver it to you secretly, if I write it quickly. He knows Lord Montagu, and is to join him at Aix. Perhaps I have been imprudent to tell him any thing; but his questions were so artfully shaped that I knew not how to answer; and I cannot resist the temptation of sending you these few words, to let you know where I am and where a letter will find me. Whenever a change occurs, I will try to find means of letting you know, in order that when our long period of separation isover you may be aware where to find your Lucette."

Such were the lines upon which Edward's eyes rested as soon as he reached his room in the abbey; and, though very simple, they gave him matter for thought during one-half of the night. That thought was all sweet; but on the following morning other considerations suggested themselves. He felt certain that Lord Montagu had seen Morini slip the paper into his hand; and there had been so much and such unusual confidence between the master and the page that Edward shrank from the idea of its being shaken even by a suspicion. Yet he could not resolve to put the note into Montagu's hands. Lucette's love had something sacred in it in his eyes, and, with the shyness of early affection, he could not bear the idea of even a jest upon the subject. He thought long while he was dressing: the servants came and went, and he had almost forgotten to tell them to follow him to the town, when Pierrot himself brought the matter to his mind by mentioning Lord Montagu's return as a rumor of the abbey.

The youth then set out for the city on foot, without having at all settled how he should act in regard to Lucette's letter. It is extraordinary how trifles sometimes embarrass us more than matters of deep moment. He had faced Richelieu himself, conscious that life hung upon the caprice or the accident of a moment, without half the hesitation he now felt. He did at last what he might as well have done at first,—left the direction of the matter to chance; for chance, unfriendly on most occasions, generally supplies us with an opportunity of acting rightly in embarrassing circumstances, if we have but the wit to take advantage of it.

When Edward entered Lord Montagu's room, he found the learned Signor Morini already there, with some papers, covered with strange characters, on a table between him and the English nobleman. Montagu gathered up the papers quickly and spoke to his page, without any allusion to the subject which principally occupied the young man's thoughts. His speech seemed somewhat dry, however, and Edward saw that the Italian gazed at him with meaning looks. A sudden thought struck him as Lord Montagu turned the conversation with Morini to some common topic, and, waiting till there was a momentary pause, he said, "By-the-way, Signor Morini, where did you leave the lady from whom you brought me a note last night? Had she gone on toward Venice?"

The Italian changed not a muscle, but replied, deliberately, "Yes: she went in the morning. I set out in the afternoon."

"Ho, ho! Signor Morini!" cried Montagu, laughing: "so you condescend to be Venus's messenger, do you?"

"Well may your lordship say Venus," replied Morini; "for a more beautiful little creature never rose from the sea or brightened the land. But your lordship will bear me witness that I betrayed no secrets. It was the young gentleman himself."

"I have betrayed no secret," said Edward, gayly, for he felt relieved. "Lord Montagu has never seen the young lady,—does not even know her name; and there is no cause why I should conceal that a lady has written to me."

"A young lady!" said Montagu, thoughtfully. "Now I have it. The Duchess of Rohan was at Turin; she had with her a cousin or a niece,—as pretty a little creature as I ever beheld. Ha, Edward! so you took care on your long journey to guard yourself against the charms of the innkeepers' daughters. Now I understand a good deal. And pray, Ned, how much of the time you consumed is to be attributed to the attractions of this pretty fair one?"

"Not a moment, my lord," replied Edward,—"unless it be that when she was stricken with the fever of the Marais I stayed with her a few days, rather than leave a lady confided to my care amongst a people almost savage and in a rude country. I might perhaps have forced my way on more quickly had I been alone; but by that time I had accepted the charge; and I will ask your lordship if I could have refused to see a lady of high rank safely to the Duc de Rohan or the Prince de Soubise, her relations, when the only alternative was for her to be shut up in Rochelle during the horrors of a siege, and when the task was pressed upon me by those who had nursed me tenderly and saved my life by their care. All we contemplated at first was a journey of a few hours; but would your lordship have left her when a series of unfortunate mishaps had cast her, sick and in danger, upon the care of perfect strangers? Could you have left any woman?"

"Perhaps not, Master Ned," said Lord Montagu, laughing,—"especially if she were as young and as pretty as the lady I saw. The only question is why you did not tell me all this before. Concealment between friends is a bad thing, Edward, and in this case might breed a suspicion that you had been trifling your time away with the pretty girl who is now sending you love-letters."

"I did not even imply that the letter was a love-letter," replied Edward; "and, moreover,——"

"I will return to your lordship in an hour or two," said Morini, rising and approaching the door: "at present I have some business."

"I was going to say," continued Edward, resuming the subject which he had dropped as Morini spoke, "if your lordship would consider, you would see that I have not yet had time to tell you one-half that has happened to me."

"Well, well," answered Montagu, good-humoredly, "no need of any excuses, Ned. I do not doubt you. Young men are young men, all the world over; and you have fewer of their faults and more of their best qualities than any one of your age I ever met with. Besides, your conduct this day would clear away all suspicions of your frankness, if I had any. I saw that crouch-backed Italian give you a billet secretly last night; and, had you concealed the fact from me, I might have thought it had reference to an intrigue more within my competence than a love-affair. But you spoke of it frankly, and that cleared my mind; for, to say truth, I had some doubts——"

"Not of me, I trust, my lord?" said Edward, somewhat mortified.

"No, not exactly of you," replied Montagu, thoughtfully, "but great doubts of that man. Do you know who he is?—or, rather, what he is?"

"I know nothing of him, my lord," replied the youth. "I never saw him or heard of him till last night."

"And yet he knew all about your having been wounded by your own brother. You will make even me believe in occult sciences," answered Montagu.

"That piece of knowledge is easily accounted for," said Edward. "He learned that from Lucette. She stayed at the abbey with Madame de Rohan as they passed, heard all my story from the good sisters, and, in her anxiety to write to me, suffered him to draw the facts from her."

"Oh, it was from Lucette, was it?" asked Montagu, with a smile. "Well, that explains all, and without any secrecy, if you are sure it is so."

"She speaks of it in her letter," answered Edward, "and blames herself for indiscretion. But your lordship asked me but now if I knew what Signor Morini is. What can he be but a well-read quack?"

"He is something more than that," replied Montagu, lowering his voice. "He is a most cunning intriguant. He is more than that. He is an agent of the Cardinal de Richelieu; and I could not be certain that the note you received last night did not contain strong inducements for you to betray me."

"He would be a bold man to offer them to me, my lord," replied Edward, warmly; "but there was nothing of the kind. The possibility of such a thing, however, forces me to do what nothing else would have induced me to think of,—namely, to show you the letter. There it is, my lord. In regard to all that concerns myself and the writer, I must beg you to ask me no questions. If there can be found in it any thing that affects your lordship, interrogate me, if you will; and I will answer all frankly."

Montagu looked at the address of the letter, and, perhaps, had some desire to see more; for where is the breast without some share of that small vice called curiosity? but he returned it unopened, saying, "I am quite satisfied, Ned. But you must understand: we are living in an age of intrigue. Each man is playing a game which has no laws. And in cases where the strong arm of power cannot reach—where no soldiers or sailors can be employed—friends, acquaintances, attendants, pages, must be gained to obtain this or that advantage for an adverse politician. You know not how widely this is practised,—how many devoted confidants of great men are also the confidants of their bitterest enemies,—what hosts of spies surround every man in eminent station. You know little of all this; but in France and Italy the evil system is carried further, deeper, lower than anywhere else; and it was very natural for me to suppose that this man, whom I know to be an emissary of Richelieu, should attempt to seduce you, and to find it hardly possible to suppose that when Richelieu had you wholly in his power he did not personally aim at the same object. The thought never struck me till last night; but then it flashed across my mind vividly, and would seem to explain how he let you go so easily."

Edward smiled bitterly. "This is somewhat hard!" he said. "And thus, my lord, my good fortune in escaping safe from a most perilous situation has shaken your trust in my honesty?"

"Not at all," replied Montagu: "he may have attempted you without success, or you may have promised him, in order to save your neck, what you did not intend to perform. I do not believe that you would really betray me for any consideration: on my soul I do not!—no, not for life! But tell me, Ned; in your conversation with that Eminence, did he never desire you to write him of my movements, or perchance to send him some of my letters, or copies thereof, or give him intimation of whom I correspond with?"

"No, my lord! no!" replied Edward, warmly. "He never did. He never hinted at or insinuated such a desire. Your name was never mentioned but once or twice in the last interview I had with him. Then he said, so far as I can recollect his words, 'You may say to Lord Montagu that the cardinal treated you well,—liberally,—and, although he had every right to stop you, sent you on to Lord Montagu, though he knew your errand and his. Compliment his lordship for me!' This was the only time that your name was mentioned, my lord; and till toward the close of that interview I did not know that his Eminence was aware I was attached to your household."

"That is strange!" said Montagu, gravely. "He knew your errand and mine, and yet let us both go forward! We form a different estimate of his character in England."

"At the risk of making your lordship still suspect he has gained me," said Edward, "I must say that I cannot but believe the cardinal has many high and noble qualities. Some evening—perchance the time may come again—when I may be permitted to pass a few hours in calm conversation with your lordship, as in days of yore, I will repeat, as nearly as I can remember, all that passed between his Eminence and myself. You will then see why I think so highly of him. But now I cannot conceive why, knowing this man Morini as you seem to know him,—an agent of Richelieu, a spy, and a charlatan,—you suffer him to hang about you, and give him the opportunity of tampering with your servants or perhaps even stealing your letters and despatches. I cannot believe that your lordship has any faith in his pretended science."

Montagu looked at him for a moment with a somewhat doubtful smile. "As to my believing in his pretended science, as you call it," he said, "I neither altogether believe nor disbelieve. There is such a thing in the world as a state of doubt, Ned,—a state where assent is not given nor dissent entertained. But what is this pretended science you speak of? Astrology has a very wide meaning, though circumscribed to its mere etymological sense it seems very narrow. But even in that sense I see not why it should be rejected altogether. Are not the stars mere creatures of God, obeying his will, following his impulses? Were they created for some purpose, or for none? Various men will tell you that their functions are this or that. Now, the astrologer says they are the real handwriting on the wall of heaven, announcing to those who can read them the fate of nations and of men. Writing in stars! What a magnificent thought! I have heard men object that those golden characters are so few and the human race so numerous that the several fortunes of all men could not be written by them. But such people forget that the motions of the stars are infinitely complex, that the relative position of every star to every other forms a new combination and may foreshadow a different event to each one of those born under their influence. Thus, if the human race be protracted to eternity, or the numbers now existing be multiplied by myriads, the various positions of those bright characters to each other in the course of time would be more than sufficient to indicate the fate of every man that ever can be born. I say not that they do indicate, but that they may. These things must always remain doubtful till repeated verification gives more convincing proof. I hold my mind open to receive or to reject; but, in the mean time, I do not neglect opportunities of obtaining means for forming a just opinion."

Lord Montagu might be in some degree amusing himself by puzzling his young companion, or he might not; but there can be no doubt that a great portion of the well-educated and many of the greatest men of his day believed at least as much as he seemed to believe of judicial astrology. Indeed, no picture of those times would be correct which did not display this peculiar aspect of the human mind. The great reformers of science had not yet appeared, or were little known; and the mind of Bacon itself was but beginning to have its influence in leading the minds of others into the course of truth and certainty.

But Edward Langdale had a great fondness for the definite, not original,—perhaps, for he was of a somewhat poetical disposition,—but acquired by the rubbing and chafing of the hard world; and he returned pertinaciously to his point. "However that may be, my lord," he said, "I cannot believe that your desire for opportunities of judging on these abstract points can be the cause of your giving such opportunities to a man whom you believe to be an enemy and a rascal. You must have some other motives for tolerating the Signor Morini about you, and appointing to meet him here, than a desire to test the science of astrology. What they are I cannot divine."

Montagu laughed. "Thou wilt be satisfied, Ned!" he said. "That man is better here than at Turin. Do you understand me? He is better under my eye than intriguing unobserved at the court of Savoy. He may tamper with my attendants, but I am upon my guard; and I would rather that he tampered with them than with the duke's counsellors. To me he can do little harm while I am forewarned and forearmed against him; but he might do much to the cause of England if he were left with a hesitating court to plant a word here and a purse of gold there as they might be needed. Yet what I said about astrology is true, and this very man's firm belief in it rather tends to make the balance in my mind lean that way; for he is keen, philosophical, worldly, learned."

"But does he really believe firmly in it?" asked Edward. "Is it not with him a mere cloak and a pretence?"

"He has suffered it to lure him here," answered Lord Montagu, "when no other inducement would have brought him. He will allow it to keep him here three days longer, when in truth he is all anxiety to hurry into France and tell the cardinal what he has discovered. I have played him as your skilful angler plays a lively fish. Once his ruling passion discovered, I have led him by it where I wished. It was like a ring in a bull's nose, which he was forced to follow, with or against his will."

"Then does your lordship propose to stay three more days in Aix?" asked the page.

"Ay, or till I receive one more note from Scaglia," answered Montagu. "Then all will be settled irrevocably: Signor Morini may bestow himself where he will, and we may do so likewise. You are impatient to hurry on, I see. Impatience is youth's quality, deliberation is man's; and so, my boy, you must keep your wishes tranquil, for I certainly shall not put spurs to mine."

"Of course, my lord, I must only follow where you lead," answered Edward, gayly. "I dare say your lordship believes I should bear the delay more patiently in Venice, and I will not deny the fact; but I suppose there is no time to go thither ere we depart."

"No, no, Ned! no!" replied Montagu. "I will not trust you near that little siren again while we have business in hand,—at least till you learn the great art of the present day, to let love and policy go hand in hand and yet never let the former impede the latter."

"A difficult task," said Edward.

"Ay," answered Montagu; "and those who try it and miss often find a bloody pillow. But here comes Morini again."

Edward immediately took his leave, and retired to obtain a chamber for himself in the inn, where he could meditate over the conversation which had just passed. It was satisfactory to him that his connection with Lucette had been acknowledged. He had previously shrunk from the thought of all mention of the subject to Lord Montagu, with the sensitive timidity of early love; but now the ice was broken, and he feared no more. But one point in that conversation was very painful to him. He saw that, if Montagu did not absolutely suspect him, his lord's confidence, which had hitherto been unbounded, was shaken. It was in vain Edward said to himself, "These great men are bound to be suspicious." There was a voice within him which always added, "At all events, he ought not to suspect me."

His musings were not suffered to continue long uninterrupted, however. Pierrot and Jacques BeauprÉ soon arrived with the horses. The two junior pages of Lord Montagu—Henry Freeland and George Abbot—came to see him, and he himself had to visit the chamber of Mr. Oakingham, a companion of Lord Montagu's, who was travelling with him in no very well-defined capacity. Oakingham was still ill from over-fatigue, and Edward sat with him for some time, trying to amuse and soothe him. Thus passed the greater part of the morning, and the two following days were fully occupied by preparations for departure; but the thought that Lord Montagu confided in him less still rankled in Edward's mind. He thought he perceived evidences of doubt in many things where perhaps no doubt existed; and he said to himself, more than once, "I cannot bear it long." The time, however, was rapidly approaching when, according to the custom of those days, Lord Montagu would feel it incumbent upon him to provide for his young friend, either in the army or at the court; and Edward resolved to wait and be patient as long as it was possible.