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They walked along the terrace, and entered the last room of the suite. It was at the corner of the hill, exactly opposite the fountain; and was lighted only by the rays of the moon, streaming through the open window on that side. The soldier stood near this, and Pancratius sat upon his small military couch.

“What is this great affair, Pancratius,” said the officer, smiling, “upon which you wish to have my sage opinion?”

“Quite a trifle, I dare say,” replied the youth, bashfully, “for a bold and generous man like you; but an important one to an unskilful and weak boy like me.”

“A good and virtuous one, I doubt not; do let me hear it; and I promise you every assistance.”

“Well, then, Sebastian—now don’t think me foolish,” proceeded Pancratius, hesitating and blushing at every word. “You are aware I have a quantity of useless plate at home—mere lumber, you know, in our plain way of living; and my dear mother, for any thing I can say, won’t wear the lots of old-fashioned trinkets, which are lying locked up, and of no use to any body. I have no one to whom all this should descend. I am, and shall be, the last of my race. You have often told me, who in that case are a Christian’s natural heirs,—the widow and the fatherless, the helpless and the indigent. Why should these wait my death, to have what by reversion is theirs? And if a persecution is coming, why run the risk of confiscation seizing them, or of plundering lictors stealing them, whenever our lives are wanted, to the utter loss of our rightful heirs?”