parlor. He had spent most of his time, for the past week,
in walking up and down. He continued to measure the length of the little
salle of the Armes de Prance until the day began to wane, when he went
out to keep his rendezvous with Mrs. Bread. The path which led up
the hill to the ruin was easy to find, and Newman in a short time had
followed it to the top. He passed beneath the rugged arch of the castle
wall, and looked about him in the early dusk for an old woman in black.
The castle yard was empty, but the door of the church was open. Newman
went into the little nave and of course found a deeper dusk than
without. A couple of tapers, however, twinkled on the altar and just
enabled him to perceive a figure seated by one of the pillars. Closer
inspection helped him to recognize Mrs. Bread, in spite of the fact
that she was dressed with unwonted splendor. She wore a large black
silk bonnet, with imposing bows of crape, and an old black satin dress
disposed itself in vaguely lustrous folds about her person. She had
judged it proper to the occasion to appear in her stateliest apparel.
She had been sitting with her eyes fixed upon the ground, but when
Newman passed before her she looked up at him, and then she rose.

"Are you a Catholic, Mrs. Bread?" he asked.

"No, sir; I'm a good Church-of-England woman, very Low," she answered.
"But I thought I should be safer in here than outside. I was never out
in the evening before, sir."

"We shall be safer," said Newman, "where no one can hear us." And he led
the way back into the castle court and then followed a path beside the
church, which he was sure must lead into another part of the ruin. He
was not deceived. It wandered along the crest of the hill and terminated
before a fragment of wall pierced by a rough aperture which had once
been a door. Through this aperture Newman passed and found himself in
a nook peculiarly favorable to quiet conversation, as probably many
an earnest couple, otherwise assorted than our friends, had assured
themselves. The hill sloped abruptly away, and on the remnant of its
crest were scattered two or three fragments of stone. Beneath, over the
plain, lay the gathered twilight, through which, in the near distance,
gleamed two or three lights from the chateau. Mrs. Bread rustled slowly
after her guide, and Newman, satisfying himself that one of the fallen
stones was steady, proposed to her to sit upon it. She cautiously
complied, and he placed h