The Lady of the Shroud

acuteness as to facts had impressed itself on her. It was strange that out of her very trust in Harold came a form of distrust in others. In

and wishing and scheming become a thing to be much desired. Harold saw, or rather felt, that something was in the girl's mind, and took for granted that

ter Everard, the son of a banker who had recently purchased an estate in the neighbourhood, was asked to come to play with her on the day when Harold left. It was holiday time at Eton, and he was at home. Stephen did not mention to Harold the

s. Leonard's only regret was that he was associated with a little girl in such a project. It was something of a blow to his personal vanity, which was a large item in his moral equipment, that such a project should have been initiated by the girl and not by himself. He was to get possession of the key

*

emost. Harold felt in great spirits. The long ride the day before had braced him physically, though there were on his journey times of great sadness when the thought of his father came back to him and the sense of loss was renewed with each thought of his old home. But youth is naturally buoyant. His visit to the church, the first thing on his arrival at Carston

below him as he came down the steep road over Alt Hill, which was the short-cut from Norcester, set his mind work

e-path Harold turned his horse's head and rode down to the churchyard. As he pushed open the door of the chur

ust sunshine it seemed, at the first glance, dark. He looked a

his heart grow cold. A cry, muffled, far away and fu

would never have suspected that it was so close to him. He ran towards the corner where commenced the steps leading downward. As he reached the spot a f

?' he cried in a

n took mine, and she dropped it too. Let me go! Let me g

re the m

t. Let me go

pockets as he spoke. When he had got the matches he let the boy go, and ran d

ouple of seconds that the light went down till the grease melted and the flame leaped again seemed of considerable length. When the lit candle was placed steadily on top of the coffin, and a light, dim, though strong enough to see with, spread around, he stooped and lifted Stephen in his arms. She was quite senseless, and so limp that a great fear came upon him that she might be dead. He did not waste time, but carried her across the vault where the door to the church steps stood out sharp against the darkness, and bore her up into the church. Holding her in one arm, with the other hand he dragged some long cushions from one of the pews and spread them on the floor; on these he laid her. His heart was smitten with love and pity as he looked. She was so helpless; so pitifully helpless! Her arms and legs were doubled up as th

child and had got tired in their walks together; and carried her to the door. She lent herself unconsciously to the movement, holding fast with her arm round his neck as she used to do. In her clinging was the expression of her trust in him. The little sigh with which she laid her head on his shoulder was the tribute to his masculine power, and her belief in it. Every instant her senses were coming back to her more and more. The veil of oblivion was passing from her half-closed eyes, as the tide of full remembrance swept in upon her. Her inner nature was ex

er generosity appealed to Harold. He was angry with the boy for being

nce. He had been waiting to defend himself, for that was what first concerne

op; and how could I see in the dark? You would

ed over again on his shoulder; and she clung close to him as the memory of her shock came back to her.

!' he added more sternly, as the boy seemed disposed to argue. Leon

gitation which was almost hysterical. She bur

where I was, I knocked away the dust, and then I saw her name: "Margaret Norman, aetat 22." I couldn't bear it. She was only a girl herself, only just twice my age-lying there in that terr

ed her senses. She seemed to take it for granted that Leonard had carried her out; and when she said how brave it had been of him, Harold, with his customary generosity, allowed her to preserve the belief. When they had made their way to the gate Leonard came up to them; but before he could speak

was incurably soiled, the fine dust of the vault seemed to have got ingrained in the muslin. When sh

a walk in the afternoon. When they were

I want you to come there with me some time soon. I fear I am afraid to go alone. I want to bring some flowers and to tidy up the place. Won't you come with me this

e he had been sitting and held up his hand. S

h. The door was open and they passed in. Harold took from his pocket a tiny key. This surprised her, and heightened the agitation which she naturally suffered from revisiting the place. She said nothing whilst he opened the door to the crypt. Within, on a bracket, stood some candles in glass shad

on which for several reasons her eyes rested, was no longer dusty but was scrupulously clean. Following with her eyes as well as she could see into the further corners she saw that there the same reform had been effected. Even the walls and ceiling had been swept of the hanging cobwebs, and the floor was clean with the cleanliness of ablution. Still holding Harold's arm, she moved over towards her mother's coffin and knelt before it. Harold knelt with her; for a little while she remained still and silent, praying inwardly. Then she rose, and taking her great bunch of flowers placed them

from her, and looked him fairl

ad the crypt cleaned?' He

would want t

d before he knew what she was doing and could prevent h

orld could be kinder. And-and-' this with