him the Chaplain's door open, and a light inside, and a figure standing
in the doorway, in the midst of a great smoke which issued from the
room.

"Who's there?" cried out the boy, who was of a good spirit.

"Silentium!" whispered the other; "'tis I, my boy!" and, holding his
hand out, Harry had no difficulty in recognizing his master and friend,
Father Holt. A curtain was over the window of the Chaplain's room that
looked to the court, and Harry saw that the smoke came from a great
flame of papers which were burning in a brazier when he entered the
Chaplain's room. After giving a hasty greeting and blessing to the lad,
who was charmed to see his tutor, the Father continued the burning of
his papers, drawing them from a cupboard over the mantel-piece wall,
which Harry had never seen before.

Father Holt laughed, seeing the lad's attention fixed at once on this
hole. "That is right, Harry," he said; "faithful little famuli, see all
and say nothing. You are faithful, I know."

"I know I would go to the stake for you," said Harry.

"I don't want your head," said the Father, patting it kindly; "all you
have to do is to hold your tongue. Let us burn these papers, and say
nothing to anybody. Should you like to read them?"

Harry Esmond blushed, and held down his head; he HAD looked as the fact
was, and without thinking, at the paper before him; and though he had
seen it, could not understand a word of it, the letters being quite
clear enough, but quite without meaning. They burned the papers, beating