sound of his voice,--which, in the excitement of the moment, he had not
attempted to disguise,--and drawing him towards a lamp, he bent his
searching eye full upon the boy's face.

"I pray you let me begone, my lady waits for me," said the page,
impatiently.

"A pretty, antic trick!" continued La Tour, without regarding his
entreaty, "and played off, no doubt, for some sage purpose! Look,
Eustace!" he added, laughing, "but have a care, that you do not become
enamoured of the holy orders!"

"Look till you are weary!" said Hector, reddening with vexation; and
dashing his scarf and rosary to the ground, he hastily unfastened the
collar of his long, black vest, and throwing it from him, stood before
them, dressed as a page, in proud and indignant silence.

"Why, you blush like a girl, Hector," said La Tour, tauntingly; "though
I think, by the flashing of your eye, it is rather from anger, than
shame. Look, Mr. Stanhope, what think _you_ of our gentle page, and
_ci-devant_ priest?"

Mr. Stanhope _was_ regarding him, with an attention, which rendered him
heedless of the question; he met the eye of Hector, and instantly the
boy's cheeks were blanched with a deadly paleness, which was rapidly
followed by a glow of the deepest crimson. An exclamation trembled on
Stanhope's lips, but he forcibly repressed it, and his embarrassment was
unremarked. De Valette had noticed Hector's changing complexion, and,
naturally attributing it to the confusion occasioned by a stranger's
presence, he took his hand with an expression of kindness, though