the existence of the neighbouring observatory. I dismissed the
idea. And I was right, as time showed.

We remained to the Communion. When that was over, we walked out of the
old dark-roofed church, Adela looking as sad as ever, into the bright
cold sunshine, which wrought no change on her demeanour. How could it,
if the sun of righteousness, even, had failed for the time? And there,
in the churchyard, we found Percy, standing astride of an infant's
grave, with his hands in his trowser-pockets, and an air of
condescending satisfaction on his countenance, which seemed to say to
the dead beneath him:

"Pray, don't apologize. I know you are disagreeable; but you can't
help it, you know;"

--and to the living coming out of church:

"Well, have you had your little whim out?"

But what he did say, was to Adela:

"A merry Christmas to you, Addie! Won't you lean on me? You don't look
very stunning."

But her sole answer was to take my arm; and so we walked towards the
Swanspond.

"I suppose that's what they call _Broad Church,_" said the colonel.

"Generally speaking, I prefer breadth," I answered, vaguely. "Do you