The prisoners who had been taken by the garrison had been for the most part confined in Newgate, but several gentlemen of rank had been permitted on giving their parole to dwell at large with private persons in the city.

Among the latter was the Vicomte de Laprade. No sooner had Lady Hester Rawdon learned that her nephew was a prisoner than she insisted on his being brought to her house, and De Laprade willingly exchanged the confinement of his prison for the society of his cousin and the comparative freedom of her house. With his ready power to adapt himself to his circumstances he was soon at home, and his gay songs and cheerful wit enlivened for a time the gloom that was gradually settling down on the household in common with the rest of the city. But even the lively humour of the Vicomte was unable to withstand the horror and distress that surrounded them on every side and deepened day by day. The pressure of famine, as silent as it was terrible, began to make itself sorely felt. Pestilence that had been lurking in the byways of the city, spread on every side, and all through the month of June the shells were crashing through the roofs and ploughing up the streets. The hope of relief that had burned steadily for a while was now growing fainter and fainter. Early in June three ships had come up the river as far as Culmore, but finding the fort in possession of the enemy, had not attempted to dispute the passage. And again, a little later, the garrison had seen from the Cathedral tower the friendly fleet far down the Lough, and had watched them with anxious hearts, till they saw them riding of Three Trees in the western glow of that summer evening. In the morning the sails were gone, and now the enemy had thrown a boom across the river which shut out the passage to the sea. But still the men of the garrison stood by the walls and manned the great guns and handled their muskets with a cheerful courage. There were traitors, no doubt, who deserted to the enemy, and traitors who murmured and plotted secretly; but for the most part the citizens stood loyally by their leaders.

Gervase Orme had suffered with the rest. He had seen poor Simon Sproule bury two of his children, and all the humour out of it, had listened to the heart-broken little man declare that God had visited him for his cowardice. The wasted faces and hollow cheeks that he met began to haunt his dreams; it became his only relief to lose himself in action and forget the horrors he had seen. His visits to the Rawdon household lightened the gloom a little. Dorothy bore her troubles with a quiet strength that put his manhood to shame, and alone in the household declared that the garrison should keep their guard while one stone stood upon another. Since De Laprade´s coming, Gervase´s visits had not been so frequent, for it was now impossible for him to find Dorothy alone during the day. The light badinage of the Vicomte jarred on his nerves, and it might be without knowing it he had become jealous of his presence. For the Vicomte´s admiration of the girl was open and declared and though he treated her with a quiet deference, it was plain he would willingly have surrendered his cousinship for a closer relation still. Dorothy appeared unconscious of his advances and turned away his flattery with a quiet smile.

Gervase had not called for several days, and had not seen any member of the household during that time. He was surprised to receive a note in Dorothy´s hand, asking him to call upon her during the evening, if his duties permitted him. It was the first letter he had ever received from her, and though he could not surmise its cause, his heart beat somewhat faster in his breast, as he pressed it to his lips in the quiet of his room. Yes, it was Dorothy´s hand, like herself, very strong and free, yet full of grace; and the words:words: “Yours in confidence, Dorothy Carew,” sent him forthwith into a pleasant reverie full of tender hopes.

All day he went about his work with a light and buoyantbuoyant heart, with the precious missive out of which he had read so much carefully buttoned up in his breast, and did his duty none the worse for thinking of the girl who wrote it. When he called he was shown into the room by Jasper´s servant Swartz, and Dorothy was waiting to receive him.

“I hope, Miss Carew,” said Gervase, “there is nothing wrong--that Lady Hester is not worse?”

“My aunt is very well,” Dorothy answered, “but a little nervous and excited. This is a trying time for her, but she bears up wonderfully. I did not think she could have endured so much with so great patience.”

“And the Vicomte?”

“Nay, he is well. My brother has lately kept much to his own room, and Victor has grown tired of our society and joins him often there. How they spend their hours I hardly know, but I think they both are fond of play, and give themselves to cards. Your hours are spent otherwise, Mr. Orme.”

“Yes,” Gervase answered, “but you see I am a soldier and have my work to look to.”

“And why should all men not be soldiers?” said the girl excitedly. “If a woman might carry arms--but this is wild talk, and you know I do not mean it. What news is there to-day?”

“Nothing of much importance: the enemy have hardly fired a shot, but I hear there is talk of an expedition to-night, I know not whither. As for the ships, they have not been seen since Thursday, but the wind is from the north and they may be here to-morrow.”

“If Colonel Kirke should be another traitor?” Dorothy said; “one hardly knows whom to trust.”

“I hope,” Gervase answered, “you will never find me false.”

“I do not think I shall, and that is why I sent for you to-dayto-day. Will you come with me into the garden, for we may be interrupted here.”

Gervase followed her out through the open window and down the path, wondering what confidence she was about to impose in him that required to be so carefully guarded. They came to a little, open space of smooth lawn where she stopped short and looked round her cautiously.

“I have thought much of this,” she said, “and I know no one but yourself to whom I can look for advice. I thought, indeed, of Captain Macpherson, but I did not know how he might act, and was afraid to trust him. What I am going to say I speak to yourself alone, and must be whispered to no other till you have my permission. Will you promise that?”

Gervase consented, hardly knowing what he promised, but seeing only the look of entreaty in her eyes.

“No matter what you feel to be your duty?”

“If it does not touch my honour nor the safety of the city.”

“Then I cannot tell you, for I do not know. Surely,” she went on pleadingly, “you can trust me, Gervase Orme? I stand alone and have none to counsel me, and--and I thought you were my friend. Surely you can trust me?”

“Every drop of blood in my veins is at your service, and though it may be weak and wrong and we may both regret it, I promise.”

She smiled a little sadly, and said with a touch of her old humour, “I had rather you had not promised, but you cannot go back on your word now. Do you think,” she said, putting her hand to her breast and looking round her, “do you think there are traitors in the city?”

“Indeed I think there are,” Gervase answered, “but we watch them narrowly and they do little harm. They would stir up rebellion if they might, but the Town-Major keeps them well in hand.”

“But I mean more than that. Do you think there are any in the city who hold communication with the enemy?”

“It may be there are, but I hardly see how they could carry out their treachery. The walls are strictly guarded, and the men on the outposts are faithful and true; it were a bold thing to attempt it.”

“Then tell me what you think of this.”

Putting her hand into her bosom, she drew out a small scroll of paper and placed it in his hands. Gervase looked at her in amazement.

“Read it, and tell me what you think of it.”

Gervase took the paper, and his astonishment deepened as he read:

“June 9. Pass the bearer through the lines. He is doing faithful service. Given under our hand. Hamilton.

“Miss Carew, where did you get this? If the man who held this paper be in the city, he is a traitor and a spy, and we should not lose a moment in discovering his villainy.”

“I knew you would use words like these. But there is something more. Three days ago, Mr. Orme, I found this paper on the staircase. Now you know my secret and why I sent for you.”

“Perhaps the Vicomte----” Gervase began.

“Nay, nay, you see the date, and my cousin Victor is still a man of honour. He has given his parole, nor would he break it for the world. It almost breaks my heart to say it, but I feel that this is my brother; I saw him searching for it where I found it, and he would have questioned me about it had he dared. And now I know why he left his room at night and seldom returned before the morning. What is to be done?”

Gervase knit his brow and stood thinking. If Dorothy was right, her brother was a traitor and in the habit of supplying the enemy with information. It was clearly his duty to report the matter to the authorities. But on the other hand he had given his word, however rashly and inconsiderately, from which he could not withdraw, and stood pledged to silence. He could not use the woman he loved as a witness against her brother and destroy him by her hands; he shrank in pain at the thought of such a course. Had it not been for the mysterious midnight rambles, the passport might perhaps have been explained. Hamilton had been in the habit of giving passes to persons in the city who had interest at head-quarters, but this was of another sort. If Jasper Carew was the bearer, and that seemed evident, then he must be a traitor in active communication with the enemy.

“It is hard,” Gervase said, “to know what to do, but I think you may let me deal with this. There is no need at present that any other person should know what has come to your knowledge, but meanwhile keep the paper safely, and tell me if your brother leaves the house at night. I will try to save him in his own despite, and for your sake and his own, because he is your brother, will watch him closely. Remember that you only suspect his guilt, and it may be you judge him wrongly,”

“This is more than suspicion,” said Dorothy holding up the passport. “Shall I tell him I have found it?”

“There is no need for that; we cannot undo what has been done, but we can prevent him doing harm in the future. Do not let this grieve or distress you. Your brother sees things in a different light from you and me, and while circumstances have kept him here, his heart is still with the enemy. He makes no secret of it.”

But he could not drive Dorothy from the simple fact. “But to play the spy! To steal out by night, and to lie hidden through the day while brave men were fighting, and a great cause is being lost or won! He is no brother of mine. Say no more or I shall think----”

“Only this, Miss Carew, that as long as I live I shall not forget the confidence you have placed in me, and I shall do what I can to show that I am not wholly unworthy of it. This is no time or place to say more than that. If it were in my power to save you any pain----”

“I am sure,” she said frankly, “you would do me a service; I know you are my friend.”

As he took her hand and led her into the house, she turned to him and said, “You must not ask too great a price for all you have done for me when I come to pay you the debt I owe you.”

“One word will repay it all,” Gervase answered, about to forget the moderation he had promised himself to observe, when she suddenly withdrew her hand and entered the room before him. There was a certain restraint in her manner now that was foreign to her native frankness, and she kept Gervase strictly to his budget of news, and prevented him from again entering on any personal topic. Presently they heard De Laprade´s voice in the hall, and he came in followed by Jasper Carew.

“Ah! ma belle cousin, we tire of one another and come to you to bring us peace. M. Orme, you do not often come to visit--what do you call it, my cousin?--valour in tribulation.”

“Vice in bonds,” growled Jasper, looking moodily at his sister.

“The Vicomte thinks his visit is growing tedious, Mr. Orme,” said Dorothy, “and would be back among his friends. He has now exhausted all the gaieties of Londonderry.”

“If every prison had so fair a jailor,” answered the Vicomte, “I should prefer captivity to freedom, but my jailor prefers to leave me to the society of her kinsman, whose virtues are exalted and whose graces are--what you see.”

Jasper turned his back and walked over to the window where he stood beating with his fingers upon the panes. In a few minutes Orme walked over and joined him.

“There is a matter, Mr. Carew,” he said in a low tone, “on which I would speak with you in private.”

Carew lifted his eyes furtively, and looked at him with a questioning air. He was about to speak but hesitated as if in doubt, and then motioning to Gervase to precede him, followed him into the garden.

“Now, sir,” he said, turning round, “what is the matter of mystery that cannot be spoken before my sister and kinsman? I think you take too much upon you.”

“I shall pass by your discourtesy, for I have come to you in all kindness, as one anxious for your welfare. What I wished to say to you is this, and I will put it briefly. The night airs are dangerous to the health, Mr. Carew, and should be avoided for the future.”

Carew turned pale for a moment, but the moody composure that was natural to him remained. Gervase could see from his eyes that he would have been dangerous had there been a fitting opportunity, but the window was open near them, and De Laprade was watching them where they stood.

“I do not apprehend your meaning, sir; or is this a further instance of your damned impertinence?”

“I have no wish to be offensive, but I will put the matter in another form, and if you fail to take my meaning, you must yourself take the consequences. It has been said,” Gervase went on calmly, “that there are certain persons in the city, even gentlemen of rank, who are in correspondence with the enemy. Rumour is ever full of exaggeration, but the name of one at least is known,” here he paused, “and others may be suspected. Perhaps you had not heard of this. But remember, sir, we will not quarrel, for I make no charge against you. And again I tell you that they who are not on duty should not walk of nights.”

“We cannot quarrel here, or by heaven! I would even kill you where you stand.”

“Neither here nor elsewhere,” Gervase answered imperturbably. “I have given you a friend´s advice, with all a friend´s sincerity, and wish you well. Your prudence will direct you in your future conduct.”

Gervase left him as he was about to speak and re-entered the house, where he shortly after took his leave and returned to his duty at the outposts.