which he had been appointed, and which would scarcely have seemed an
amelioration of destiny to any one save a man who had for years been
deprived of the light of the sun and the scent of the free air. Some
deed there had been in that life which had called for such monastic
discipline; some outcome of human passion when the blood, that now
crept slowly, while the aged monk passed the hours in waiting for
visions before the altar of St. Apollinare, was running in his veins
too rapidly for monastic requirements.

It was evident from the few words that he had let drop, when he
became aware who the young Venetian visitor to the church under his
care was, that some special circumstances caused him to feel a more
than ordinary interest in her. Some connection there must have been
between some portion of his life and that of some member or members
of her family. Of what nature was it? Monkish tribunals, however
else they may treat those subjected to them, at least keep their
secrets. Frailties must be expiated; but they need not be exposed.
And the true story of the fault which condemned Father Fabiano to
end his days amid the swamps of St. Apollinare, as well as the
precise nature of the connection which had existed between him and
Paolina's parents, can be only matter of conjecture.

Paolina, as has been said, pursued her path slowly. She had tripped
along much more lightly on her way from the city to St. Apollinare.
And yet she was urged on by a burning anxiety to know whither
Ludovico and Bianca had gone, and for what purpose they had come
thither. But, despite this nervous anxiety, she stepped slowly,
because her heart disapproved of the course she was taking. It
seemed as if she was drawn on towards the forest by some mysterious
mechanical force, which she had not the strength to resist. Again