stand thus, I would advise you to hasten on your journey to Rome."

"The Orsini have good reasons for keeping their treasures out of Rome, and I doubt if, even in this exigency, and to redeem the heir of their great house, they could raise ten thousand gold crowns anywhere nearer than Venice-too late to save the young lord from his menaced doom!" returned the monk, eyeing the Hospitaller with keen at.tention.

"The heir of the Orsini!-what, Signor Paolo?" exclaimed the latter with visible interest, adding in a colder tone, "Why, since the Borgias intend him for their son-in-law, the rusty ducats of the Vatican will surely be forthcoming were the sum ten times to be told."

The monk laughed, but it was gloomily and derisively, without the least tinge of mirth.

"If you listen to the little birds singing, an' they be wise, ye will hear them say little on that matter," he said. ""Tis known what remarkable love the Borgias have as yet shown to their sons-in-law, and I see not why they should display less tenderness towards one who is also the great strength of their rebels against them, whose subtlety, if any can above ground, matches their own."

"In the plain vulgar tongue, brother of St. Dominic, tell us what you mean?" adjured the canon, with a bewildered stare.

"Moreover, duke Valentino is at Faenza, carrying on his siege there, and the Pope is not so headstrong and fierce as of old, and does nothing without direc

tion," returned the monk, apparently avoiding a direct answer.

"Is not Cæsar's lieutenant, Don Remiro, that wolf of justice who hath so nigh extirpated the Black Bands, to be found in Romagna?" said the Hospitaller. "Tut, tut, there is always a long stream of blood flowing from his abode whereby to find him."

"Force were of no avail; they will flee and take their secret with them," replied the Dominican. "Moreover, Paolo is probably at this moment dying of cold, hunger, and terror, in the dismal cavern below. But I marvel not that friends to the Duke of Ferrara should be willing to let his son's rival perish, even by so terrible a doom."

"Now, by our Lady's tears at the cross, I will not leave these mountains until I have redeemed Paolo Orsino, or shared his fate," exclaimed the generous Hospitaller, with sudden vehemence.

“And as we are the very cow and calf of knighthood, by the same, I will not leave you until this matter be determined," said Sir Reginald; and, raising his horn, he blew a cheerful blast: but he had no great occasion for that expenditure of breath, as the men-at-arms, wearied and alarmed at the long delay, came straggling into sight.

"It is a profane and heathen tempting of Providence, a wicked oath, from which I absolve you both," said the canon, infinitely alarmed; but without heeding his dehortation, the knights entreated the monk to endeavour to recollect if he had no clue by which to guide them to the adit possessed by the robbers. He shook his head mournfully.

"Then let us even take the blessed saint's own way, and clamber up the torrent," said the gallant English knight.

"It is possible the Carthusians may have some tradition left, which may be easier to follow than you might find it to climb a rope of water," replied the Dominican. "At all events the night is coming, and you will need torches. Moreover your armour must be laid aside in such an attempt, for it requires the litheness of the serpent to glide among those slippery chasms, where a false step is perdition. Therefore let us in the first place find out our way to the monastery, and yonder methinks-nay 'tis certain-is the cleft for which I have been searching so long."

CHAPTER V.

"By the pricking of my thumbs

Something wicked this way comes."-Macbeth.

THE sun was now completely set, and the shadows of the rocks had shifted, so that some which had been concealed projected, and others vanished into darkness. A red glare down a pile of massy rocks crowned with pines of immense height, the trunks of which were so weather-stained as to seem of old rusty iron, revealed a steep and very narrow defile, which, after ascending for a short time, apparently broke off abruptly in mid air.

But on reaching the summit, under guidance of the Dominican, the travellers found that the path continued, descending through a sloping forest, which clothed the sides of one of those wild sierras. Thence, by a winding succession of precipices over the torrent, they emerged on a species of platform of bare rocks, on which one side of the bridge rested.

To cross this bridge, which was scarcely wide enough for a single passenger, which had no parapet, and which seemed to shake with the thunder of the cataract, whose white waves rolled at a ghastly

depth below, appeared scarcely a possible feat for a horseman. But Le Beaufort, laughing at the canon's exclamations of terror, set spurs to his horse, and crossed the bridge at a gallop, waving his hand in triumph when he reached the opposite ledge. The Knight of St. John followed more leisurely, but with even greater coolness, for he checked his steed in the centre of the bridge, and surveyed the cataract with calm attention.

The waters rushing in a vast body over the highest pile of rocks, fell in one headlong sheet to another which jutted considerably, and on which they dashed themselves into a sea of foam, rolling over in a hundred separate torrents, which in their turn were flung and torn to pieces on the precipices they encountered in their descent. The hollow darkness below the projecting rocks of the second fall, marked the entrance to the cavern; but the Hospitaller's attention was caught by a strange red glow on the impetuous waters which rolled over it, as if from some fire within. As he gazed, it died out, and he was left in doubt whether it was an illusion of his imagination, or some phenomenon peculiar to those volcanic regions.

Meanwhile the canon was shouting lustily to him to cross and leave the way clear, for although in mortal trepidation, there was no resource but to follow. The canon's mule took the bridge steadily, while he himself endeavoured by stretching both arms to assist in keeping the balance. But whether from the force of imitation, or from some good reason of its own, the mule paused directly in the