nrise, Newman felt the
impulse to grasp at a rosy cloud. "Your only reason is that you love
me!" he murmured with an eloquent gesture, and for want of a better
reason Madame de Cintre reconciled herself to this one.

Newman came back the next day, and in the vestibule, as he entered the
house, he encountered his friend Mrs. Bread. She was wandering about in
honorable idleness, and when his eyes fell upon her she delivered him
one of her curtsies. Then turning to the servant who had admitted him,
she said, with the combined majesty of her native superiority and of
a rugged English accent, "You may retire; I will have the honor of
conducting monsieur." In spite of this combination, however, it appeared
to Newman that her voice had a slight quaver, as if the tone of command
were not habitual to it. The man gave her an impertinent stare, but he
walked slowly away, and she led Newman up-stairs. At half its course the
staircase gave a bend, forming a little platform. In the angle of
the wall stood an indifferent statue of an eighteenth-century nymph,
simpering, sallow, and cracked. Here Mrs. Bread stopped and looked with
shy kindness at her companion.

"I know the good news, sir," she murmured.

"You have a good right to be first to know it," said Newman. "You have
taken such a friendly interest."

Mrs. Bread turned away and began to blow the dust off the statue, as if
this might be mockery.

"I suppose you want to congratulate me," said Newman. "I am greatly
obliged." And then he added, "You gave me much pleasure the other day."

She turned around, apparently reassured. "You are not to think that I
have been told anything," she said; "I have only guessed. But when I
looked at you, as you came in, I was sure I had guessed aright."

"You are very sharp," said Newman. "I am sure that in your quiet way you
see everything."

"I am not a fool, sir, thank God. I have guessed something else beside,"
said Mrs. Bread.

"What's that?"

"I needn't tell you that, sir; I don't think you would believe it. At
any rate it wouldn't please you."

"Oh, tell me nothing but what will please me," laughed Newman. "That is
the way you began."

"Well, sir, I suppose you won't be vexed to hear that the sooner
everything is over the better."

"The sooner we are married, you mean? The better for me, certainly."

"The better for every one."

"The better for you, perhaps. You know you are coming to live with us,"
said Newman.

"I'm e