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"Hear me, Lucy, hear me!" said Renzo, without however approaching

her.

"No, no; go away! for charity!"

"Hear me, Father Christopher--"

"How!"

"He is here."

"Here! where? how do you know?"

"I have just spoken with him; a man like him it appears to me--"

"He is here! to assist the afflicted, no doubt. Has he had the

plague?"

"Ah! Lucy! I fear, I greatly fear--" As Renzo hesitated to utter

his fears, she had unconsciously again approached him, with a

look of anxious enquiry--"I fear he has it now!"

"Oh! poor man! But what do I say? poor man! he is rich, rich in

the favour of God! How is he? Is he confined to his bed? Has he

assistance?"

"He is, on the contrary, still assisting others--but if you were

to see him! Alas! there can be no mistake!"

"Oh! is he indeed within these walls?" said Lucy.

"Here, and not far off; hardly farther than from your cottage to

mine--if you remember--"

"Oh! most holy Virgin!"