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.
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