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"Gone," replied the wounded man. This was Blueskin, who burst through the trees, and sword in hand assaulted the thief-taker. " "My confessor!" ejaculated the knight, in the extremity of surprise; "has he betrayed his sacred trust?" "He has," replied the other, grinning; "and this will be a caution to you in future, how you confide a secret of consequence to a priest. It was his heart. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. I cannot let you go. She calls him a pig, and she says he ain’t Valade. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable.
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