"But, signor, do you think it is right or wise to imperil the future and the reputation of a young man like Dino—without friends, without home, without a name, entirely dependent upon us and our provision for him—by making him the depository of secrets which he keeps against his conscience and against the rule of the Order in which he lives? Brother Dino has told me nothing; he even evaded a question which he thought that you would not wish him to answer; but, he has acted wrongly, and will suffer if he is led into further concealment. Need I say more?"
"He shall not suffer through me," said Brian, impetuously. "I ought to have known better. But I was not myself; I don't remember what I said. I was surprised and relieved when I came to myself and found you all calling me Mr. Stretton. I never thought of laying any burden upon Dino."
"You will do well, then," said the Prior, approvingly, "if you do not speak of the matter to him at all. He is bound to mention it if questioned, and I presume you do not want to make it known."
"No, I do not. But I thought that he was bound only to mention matters that concerned himself; not those of other people," said Brian, with more hardihood than the priest had expected of him.
Padre Cristoforo smiled, and made a little motion with his hand, as much as to say that there were many things which an Englishman and a heretic could not be expected to know. "Dino is in a state of pupilage," he said, slightly, finding that Brian seemed to expect an answer; "the rules which bind him are very strict. But—if you will allow me to advert once more to your proposed change of name and residence—I suppose that it is not indiscreet to remark that your friends in England—or Scotland—will doubtless be anxious about your place of abode at present?"
"I do not think so," said Brian, in a low tone. "I believe that they think me dead."
"Why so?"
"Perhaps you did not hear in your quiet monastery, Father, of a party of travellers who perished in an avalanche last November? Two guides, a porter, and an Englishman, whose body was never recovered. I was that Englishman."
"I heard of the accident," said Padre Cristoforo, briefly, nodding his head. "So you escaped, signor? You must have had strong limbs and stout sinews—or else you must have been attended by some special providential care—to escape, when those three skilled mountaineers were lost on the mountain side."
"On ne meurt pas quand la mort est la délivrance," quoted Brian, with a bitter laugh. "You may be quite sure that if I had been at the height of felicity and good fortune, it would have needed but a false step, or a slight chill, or a stray shot—a stray shot! oh, my God! If only some stray shot had come to me—not to my brother—my brother——"