many of his friends have already suffered that same fate to leave any
reasonable hope that his will be other or happier." He drew Calvert to
one side and spoke in a low tone. "Indeed, I think 'tis more than
probable that he is guilty of the charges preferred against him and
would go over to Monsieur de Condé had he the chance. I have known for a
long while that he has become thoroughly disgusted with the trend of
affairs here, and has no thought now but to serve the King. I think he
has broken with Lafayette entirely since the affair of St. Cloud, and
his change of political faith is only too well known here. If he does
not leave Paris to-night, he will never leave it."

"Then," said Mr. Calvert, "I am ready to do my part."

"No, no, 'tis impossible that this thing should be," broke out Mr.
Morris, looking at the young man's pale, gloomy face. "I had hoped that
it would be the greatest happiness; was I, then, mistaken?"

Calvert laid his hand on the elder man's shoulder.

"Hush, she must not hear. 'Tis an agreement we have entered into," he
says, hurriedly. "Will you call a priest and send for the Duchess and
d'Azay?"

"The Bishop of Autun has just come in," said Mr. Morris, after a
moment's silence, and pressing the young man's hand, "and there is no
time to send for anyone. I will go myself and ask him to come up."

They came in together in a very few moments, His Grace of Autun grave
and asking no questions (from which Calvert rightly argued that Mr.
Morris had confided in him), but with a concerned and kindly air toward