It did bring, by three o'clock, a note, delivered
by a footman; a note addressed in Urbain de Bellegarde's handsome
English hand. It ran as follows:--
"I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of letting you know that I return
to Paris, to-morrow, with my mother, in order that we may see my sister
and confirm her in the resolution which is the most effectual reply to
your audacious pertinacity.
"HENRI-URBAIN DE BELLEGARDE."
Newman put the letter into his pocket, and continued his walk up and
down the inn-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.
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