"Ne crede principibus," said the stranger, "is no more worthy of acceptance than ne crede feminis."
"Chosen friend of my soul, sworn brother of my heart," exclaimed the Knight, "I conjure thee to tell me what thou knowest or dost suspect of these mysterious circumstances."
"Thou hast borne, beloved friend, a cross, whereof thou knewest not. You were betrayed, like him whose name you bear even in the house of your friends."
"A light begins to dawn upon my mind. And Sister Celestina—"
"Aye, Sister Celestina, or, as she must now be called, the Abbess of St. Idlewhim, was the traitress. Yet, why call I her so? She did but obey her vow."
"May it please thee, Albert, to be more explicit?"
"Know, then," said the stranger, "that it was in consequence of representations from Sister Celestina thou wast recalled."
"How knowest thou this to be true?"
"Ask me not, for that I dare not reveal; but I swear, by the bones of Loyola, and by our mutual friendship, that it is the sincere truth. Father —— (I will not breathe his name, he added, looking cautiously around,) loves thee not. Thou wert in his way, and he had thee removed from England. He is strong now and fears thee no longer, and has had thee sent ignominiously home, seizing hold of the idle suspicions of a woman as a pretext."
"I see now," said the Knight, "reasons for her conduct, which at the time seemed inexplicable. But what reported Celestina to him?"