silence.

'It is almost too lovely a day for talking,' she said, at last.

'True; it is a day for thinking and dreaming.'

'I do not imagine, sir, that either thinking or dreaming is very much in
your way.'

He turned to her almost sharply.

'Oh, indeed,' he said, 'you hardly gauge my character aright, Miss
M'Crimman.'

'Do I not?'

'No, if you only knew how much I think at times; if you only knew how much
I have even dared to dream--'

There was a strange meaning in his looks if not in his words. Did she
interpret either aright, I wonder? I know not. Of one thing I am sure, and
that is, my friend and tutor was far too noble to seem to take advantage
of my aunt's altered circumstances in life to press his suit. He might be
her equal some day, at present he was--her brother's guest and domestic.

'Tell me,' she said, interrupting him, 'some of your thoughts; dreams at
best are silly.'

He heaved the faintest sigh, and for a few moments appeared bent only on
forming an isosceles triangle of pebbles with his cane.

Then he put his fingers in his pocket.

'I wish to show you,' he said, 'a ring.'

'A ring, Mr. Townley! What a curious ring! Silver, set with a ruby heart.
Why, this is the ring--the mysterious ring that belonged to the priest,
and was found in his box in the vault.'

'No, that is not _the_ ring. _The_ ring is in a safe and under seal. That
is but a facsimile. But, Miss M'Crimman, the ring in question did not, I
have reason to believe, belong to the priest Stewart, nor was it ever worn
by him.'

'How strangely you talk and look, Mr. Townley!'

'Whatever I say to you now, Miss M'Crimman, I wish you to consider
sacred.'

The lady laughed, but not lightly.

'Do you think,' she said, 'I can keep a secret?'

'I do, Miss M'Crimman, and I want a friend and occasional adviser.'

'Go on, Mr. Townley. You may depend on me.'

'All we know, or at least all he will tell us of Murdoch's--your
nephew's--illness, is that he was frightened at the ruin that night. He
did not lead us to infer--for this boy is honest--that the terror partook
of the supernatural, but he seemed pleased we did so infer.'

'Yes, Mr. Townley.'

'I watched by his bedside at night, when the fever was at its hottest. I
alone listened to his ravings. Such ravings have always, so doctors tell
us, a foundation in fact. He mentioned this ring over and over again. He
mentioned a vault; he mentioned a name, and starting sometimes fr