They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up stairs, treading upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their weight. Anna said nothing. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash.
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