and authorities by which the Papal Church defends its doctrine of
Purgatory. That entailed a long and, no doubt, erudite reply, which
lasted not only through the rest of the dinner, but till Mrs. Motley,
edified by the discourse, and delighted to notice the undeviating
attention which Darrell paid to her distinguished spouse, took advantage
of the first full stop, and retired. Fairthorn finished his bottle of
port, and, far from convinced that there was no Purgatory, but inclined
to advance the novel heresy that Purgatory sometimes commenced on this
side the grave--slinked away, and was seen no more that night; neither
was his flute heard.

Then Darrell rose and said: "I shall go up-stairs to our sick friend for
a few minutes; may I find you here when I come back? Your visit to him
can follow mine."

On entering Waife's room, Darrell went straight forward towards Sophy,
and cut off her retreat.

"Fair guest," said he, with a grace and tenderness of manner which, when
he pleased it, could be ineffably bewitching--"teach me some art by which
in future rather to detain than to scare away the presence in which a
duller age than mine could still recognise the charms that subdue the
young." He led her back gently to the seat she had deserted--placed
himself next to her--addressed a few cordial queries to Waife about his
health and comforts--and then said: "You must not leave me for some days
yet. I have written by this post to my kinsman, Lionel Haughton. I have
refused to be his ambassador at a court in which, by all the laws of
nations, he is bound to submit himself to his conqueror. I cannot even
hope that he may escape with his freedom. No! chains for life! Thrice
happy, indeed, if that be the merciful sentence you inflict."