which it is impossible for me to understand.
I want your advice on the best means of
discovering the writers; and I have also a very
important question to ask you. But read
one of the letters first yourself: any one will
do as a sample of the rest."

Fixing his eyes searchingly on the priest,
he handed him one of the notes. Still a little
paler than usual, Father Rocco sat down by
the nearest lamp, and shading his eyes, read
these lines:—

"Count Fabio:—It is the common talk of
Pisa that you are likely, as a young man left
with a motherless child, to marry again.
Your having accepted an invitation to the
Melani palace gives a colour of truth to
this report. Widowers who are true to the
departed, do not go among all the
handsomest single women in a city, at a masked
ball. Reconsider your determination, and
remain at home. I know you, and I knew
your wife, and I say to you solemnly, avoid
temptation, for you must never marry again.
Neglect my advice, and you will repent it to
the end of your life. I have reasons for what
I say—serious, fatal reasons, which I cannot
divulge. If you would let your wife lie
easy in her grave, if you would avoid a
terrible warning, go not to the masked
ball!"

"I ask you, and I ask any man, if that is
not infamous?" exclaimed Fabio, passionately,
as the priest handed him back the
letter. "An attempt to work on my fears
through the memory of my poor dead wife!
An insolent assumption that I want to marry
again, when I myself have not even so much
as thought of the subject at all! What is
the secret object of this letter, and of the
rest here that resemble it! Whose interest is
it to keep me away from the ball? What is
the meaning of such a phrase as—'if you
would let your wife lie easy in her grave?'
Have you no advice to give me? No plan to
propose for discovering the vile hand that
traced these lines? Speak to me! Why,
in Heaven's name, don't you speak?"

The priest leant his head on his hand,
and, turning his face from the light as if it
dazzled his eyes, replied in his lowest and
quietest tones:

"I cannot speak till I have had time to
think. The mystery of that letter is not to
be solved in a moment. There are things in
it that are enough to perplex and amaze
any man?"

"What things?"

"It is impossible for me to go into details
at least, at the present moment."

"You speak with a strange air of secresy.
Have you nothing definite to say? No
advice to give me?"

"I should advise you not to go to the
ball."

"You would! Why?"

"If I gave you my reasons, I am afraid I
should only be irritating you to no purpose."

"Father Rocco! Neither your words nor
your manner satisfy me. You speak in
riddles; and you sit there in the dark, with
your face hidden from me—-"

The priest instantly started up. and turned
his face to the light.

"I recommend you to control your temper,
and to treat me with common courtesy," he
said, in his quietest, firmest tones, looking at
Fabio steadily while he spoke.

"We will not prolong this interview," said
the young man, calming himself by an evident
effort. "I have one question to ask you, and
then no more to say."

The priest bowed his head, in token that
he was ready to listen. He still stood up,
calm, pale, and firm, in the full light of the
lamp.

"It is just possible," continued Fabio,
"that these letters may refer to some
incautious words which my late wife might have
spoken. I ask you, as her spiritual director,
and as a near relation who enjoyed her
confidence, if you ever heard her express a wish,
in the event of my surviving her, that I
should abstain from marrying again?"

"Did she never express such a wish to
you?"

"Never. But why do you evade my question
by asking me another?"

"It is impossible for me to reply to your
question."

"For what reason?"

"Because it is impossible for me to give
answers which must refer, whether they are
affirmative or negative, to what I have heard
in confession."

"We have spoken enough," said Fabio,
turning angrily from the priest. "I expected
you to help me in clearing up these
mysteries, and you do your best to thicken them.
What your motives are, what your conduct
means, it is impossible for me to know; but
I say to you, what I would say in far other
terms, if they were here, to the villains who
have written these letters—no menaces, no
mysteries, no conspiracies, will prevent me
from being at the ball to-morrow. I can
listen to persuasion, but I scorn threats.
There lies my dress for the masquerade: no
power on earth shall prevent me from wearing
it to-morrow night!" He pointed, as he
spoke, to the black domino and half-mask
lying on the table.

"No power on earth?" repeated Father
Rocco, with a smile, and an emphasis on the
last word. "Superstitious still, Count Fabio!
Do you suspect the powers of the other
world of interfering with mortals at
masquerades? "

Fabio started, and, turning from the table,
fixed his eyes intently on the priest's face.

"You suggested just now that we had
better not prolong this interview," said
Father Rocco, still smiling. "I think you
were right: if we part at once, we may still
part friends. You have had my advice not