thou, Renzo! believe that I sympathise with all that passes in thy heart.—But patience! It is a poor word, a bitter word to those who want faith; but, Renzo, will you not let God work? Will you not trust Him? Let Him work, Renzo; and, for your consolation, know that I hold in my hand a clue, by which I hope to extricate you from your distress. I cannot say more now. To-morrow I shall not be here; I shall be all day at the convent employed for you. Renzo, if thou canst, come there to me; but, if prevented by any accident, send some trusty messenger, by whom I can make known to you the success of my endeavours. Night approaches; I must return to the convent. Farewell! Faith and courage!" So saying, he departed, and hastened by the most abrupt but shortest road, to reach the convent in time, and escape the usual reprimand; or, what was worse, the imposition of some penance, which might disenable him, for the following day, from continuing his efforts in favour of his protégés.
"Did you hear him speak of a clue which he holds to aid us?" said Lucy; "it is best to trust in him; he is a man who does not make rash promises."
"He ought to have spoken more clearly," said Agnes; "or at least have taken me aside, and told me what it was."
"I'll put an end to the business; I'll put an end to it," said Renzo, pacing furiously up and down the room.
"Oh! Renzo!" exclaimed Lucy.
"What do you mean?" said Agnes.
"What do I mean? I mean to say that he may have a hundred thousand devils in his soul, but he is flesh and blood notwithstanding."
"No, no, for the love of Heaven!" said Lucy, but tears choked her voice.
"It is not a theme for jesting," said Agnes.
"For jesting?" cried Renzo, stopping before her, with his countenance inflamed by anger; "for jesting! you will see if I am in jest."
"Oh! Renzo!" said Lucy, sobbing, "I have never seen you thus before!"
"Hush, hush!" said Agnes, "speak not in this manner.
