Satan on your back, to bear witness to your falsehood?" demanded the
chaplain.

"Now may the saints defend me from your anger! I did not mean to
offend," said the boy, shrinking from his extended hand, and bending his
head, as if to count the beads of a rosary which hung around his neck.

"Did _I_ teach you this mummery?" resumed the irritated Scot; "did _I_
teach you to put on those robes of the devil, and hold that lighted
torch to him, as you have but now done?"

"I crave your pardon," returned the boy; "I thought it was my lady's
chaplain, whom I was lighting across the yard, but your reverence knows
the truth better than I do."

As he spoke, he waved the torch on high, and the light fell full upon
the excited features of Mr. Broadhead. A laugh from De Valette, who had,
unobserved, drawn near enough to overhear them, startled both, and
checked the angry reply, which was bursting from the chaplain's lips. He
surveyed the intruder a moment in stubborn silence, then quietly
retreated; probably aware, from former experience, that the gay young
Catholic had not much veneration for his person or character. The boy
hastily extinguished his torch, murmuring, in a low voice,--

"His reverence may find his way back in the dark, as he best can; and it
will be well if he does not need the light of my torch, before he is
safe in his quarters: light the devil, indeed! he took good care not to
think of that, till he had served his own purpose with it!"

"What are you muttering about, boy?" asked De Valette.