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They talked for the better part of an hour, and at last walked together to the junction of highroad and the bridle-path. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. “Mrs. You have not forgotten——” “I have forgotten nothing?” he answered, enigmatically. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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