was of stone: part of it was open, and some ruinous steps
led into a cellar. Here they descended, and found themselves in a
place which had been excavated from the rock which formed three sides
of the place. On the fourth was a wall, in which was a wide gap that
looked out upon the chasm. It seemed as though there had once been a
bridge at this point leading over to the castle.

"Here," said the priest, "if you look out you cannot imagine any
possibility of descent, but if you examine carefully you will
perceive a narrow ledge among the shrubbery. Go out on this, and
follow it along, and you will find it growing wider as it goes down.
It will take you all the way to the bottom of this chasm, and there
you will find stepping-stones by which to cross the brook, and on the
opposite side a trail like this, which will lead you to the top of
the opposite ridge."

"I don't think that I should feel inclined to try it," said the lady;
"but I am glad, all the same, that I have a mode of retreat. It makes
one feel less desperate."

"Oh, you know, I hope to be back again."

"But what shall I do if you do not return?" said the lady.

"That is what troubles me," said the priest. "To think of you making
your escape alone--"

"That is not what I meant," said the lady. "I referred to my own
self-reproach. If you do not come back, I shall feel as though your
blood is required at my hands."

The priest looked at her and gave his short laugh.

"I shouldn't advise you to come after me to the castle," said he.
"Your chief difficulty will be the commissariat. If I do not come
back before twenty-four hours, you will then have to fly for
yourself. In that case, do not go back to the road you were on
before. Do not go to the castle. Take this path and go down to the
bottom of the chasm, and up the other side to the top of the ridge.
Keep under trees as much as possible. Travel due south. Heaven help
you! God bless you! Good-bye!"

He looked at the lady. Her eyes, which were fixed on him, seemed
overflowing with feeling; but whether of anxiety for him or fear for
herself did not appear.

"You seem to me to be going to death," said she, in a low voice, "and
I am the cause!"

"To death!" said the priest, with his usual laugh. "_Moriturus te
salutat_. Pardon!--that's Latin. At any rate, we may as well shake
hands over it."

He held out his hand. She caught it in both of hers.

"God protect you!" she murmured, in a low voice, with q