as I have heard, than all the other nuns put
together; yet, when last month they would
fain have made her mother superior, she
begged rather that they would place her
below all the rest, and make her the meanest
servant of all."

"You never saw her ?" asked I.

"Never," he replied.

I was weary of waiting for Father Bernard,
and yet I lingered in Antwerp. The political
state of things became worse than ever,
increased to its height by the scarcity of food
consequent on many deficient harvests. I
saw groups of fierce, squalid men, at every
corner of the street, glaring out with wolfish
eyes at my sleek skin and handsome clothes.

At last Father Bernard returned. We had
a long conversation, in which he told me
that, curiously enough, Mr. Gisborne, Lucy's
father, was serving in one of the Austrian
regiments, then in garrison at Antwerp. I
asked Father Bernard if he would make us
acquainted; which he consented to do. But,
a day or two afterwards, he told me that, on
hearing my name, Mr. Gisborne had declined
responding to any advances on my part,
saying he had abjured his country, and hated
his countrymen.

Probably he recollected my name in
connection with that of his daughter Lucy.
Anyhow, it was clear enough that I had no
chance of making his acquaintance. Father
Bernard confirmed me in my suspicions of
the hidden fermentation for some coming
evil working among the " blouses " of
Antwerp, and he would fain have had me depart
from out of the city; but I rather craved the
excitement of danger, and stubbornly refused
to leave.

One day, when I was walking with him in
the Place Verte, he bowed to an Austrian
officer, who was crossing towards the
cathedral.

"That is Mr. Gisborne," said he, as soon
as the gentleman was past.

I turned to look at the tall, slight figure of
the officer. He carried himself in a stately
manner, although he was past middle age,
and from his years, might have had some
excuse for a slight stoop. As I looked at the
man, he turned round, his eyes met mine, and
I saw his face. Deeply lined, sallow, and
scathed was that countenance; scarred by
passion as well as by the fortunes of war.
'Twas but for a moment our eyes met. We
each turned round, and went on our separate
way.

But his whole appearance was not one to
be easily forgotten; the thorough appointment
of the dress, and evident thought
bestowed on it, made but an incongruous
whole with the dark, gloomy expression of
his countenance. Because he was Lucy's
father, I sought instinctively to meet him
everywhere. At last he must have become
aware of my pertinacity, for he gave me a
haughty scowl whenever I passed him. In
one of these encounters, however, I chanced
to be of some service to him. He was turning
the corner of a street, and came suddenly
on one of the groups of discontented Flemings
of whom I have spoken. Some words were
exchanged, when my gentleman out with his
sword, and with a slight but skilful cut he
drew blood from one of those who had
insulted him, as he fancied, though I was too
far off to hear the words. They would all
have fallen upon him had I not rushed
forwards and raised the cry, then well known
in Antwerp, of rally, to the Austrian soldiers
who were perpetually patrolling the streets,
and who came in numbers to the rescue. I
think that neither Mr. Gisborne nor the
mutinous group of plebeians owed me much
gratitude for my interference. He had
planted himself against a wall, in a skilful
attitude of fence, ready with his bright
glancing rapier to do battle with all the
heavy, fierce, unarmed men, some six or
seven in number. But when his own
soldiers came up, he sheathed his sword; and,
giving some careless word of command, sent
them away again, and continued his saunter
all alone down the street, the workmen
snarling in his rear, and more than half-
inclined to fall on me for my cry for rescue.
I cared not if they did, my life seemed so
dreary a burden just then; and perhaps it
was this daring loitering among them that
prevented their attacking me. Instead, they
suffered me to fall into conversation with
them; and I heard some of their grievances.
Sore and heavy to be borne were they, and
no wonder the sufferers were savage and
desperate.

The man whom Gisborne had wounded
across his face would fain have got out of
me the name of his aggressor, but I refused
to tell it. Another of the group heard his
inquiry, and made answer:

'I know the man. He is one Gisborne,
aide-de-camp to the General-Commandant.
I know him well."

He began to tell some story in connection
with Gisborne in a low and muttering voice;
and while he was relating a tale, which I
saw excited their evil blood, and which they
evidently wished me not to hear, I sauntered
away and back to my lodgings.

That night Antwerp was in open revolt.
The inhabitants rose in rebellion against
their Austrian masters. The Austrians,
holding the gates of the city, remained at
first pretty quiet in the citadel; only from
time to time the boom of a great cannon swept
sullenly over the town. But, if they
expected the disturbance to die away, and spend
itself in a few hours' fury, they were
mistaken. In a day or two the rioters held
possession of the principal municipal buildings.
Then the Austrians poured forth in bright
flaming array, calm and smiling, as they
marched to the posts assigned, as if the
fierce mob were no more to them than the