"I will do my utmost, Father, to order myself by your instructions," replied Cuthbert, lifting his head.
"You will supply yourself with a surname, which even Mr. Irvine must not know not to be your real name. Select one which shall not be so uncommon as to attract notice, nor so common that letters would be likely to miscarry. You can consider this at your leisure, and let us know to-morrow of what name you have thought, since we shall not require you to set out before to-morrow evening."
"What say you to 'Stevens?'" suggested Cuthbert in a moment.
A grave consultation among the elder Jesuits followed, ending with the approval of Cuthbert's suggestion.
"You are very young, my Brother, to be trusted with so grave and important a matter as His Majesty's errands are," warned the elder priest in conclusion. "We have relied upon your ingenuity and devotion. Let us not have cause to regret choosing you."
"You will not do that, Father," answered Cuthbert, not so much proudly as coolly and confidently.
And making his adieux to the conclave, Mr. Cuthbert Stevens—for so we must henceforth call him—withdrew from the room.
We shall see him again shortly; but for the present we must return (rather more rapidly than he could travel) to Ashcliffe Hall.
"Celia!" said Lucy to her sister, a few hours later, as the latter tucked her up in bed, "do you think—is it very—did you hear what Charley said about Sunday?"
"Yes, dear. Charley was in a passion, and did not mean what he said, I hope."