at the plate on the coffin!'

A low moan broke from Stephen, a long, low, trembling moan which went to
Harold's heart. Her head drooped over again on his shoulder; and she
clung close to him as the memory of her shock came back to her. Harold
spoke to Leonard over his shoulder in a low, fierce whisper, which
Stephen did not seem to hear:

'There! that will do. Go away! You have done enough already. Go! Go!'
he added more sternly, as the boy seemed disposed to argue. Leonard ran
a few steps, then walked to the lich-gate, where he waited.

Stephen clung close to Harold in a state of agitation which was almost
hysterical. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing brokenly:

'Oh, Harold! It was too awful. I never thought, never for a moment,
that my poor dear mother was buried in the crypt. And when I went to
look at the name on the coffin that was nearest to 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 terrible dark place with all the thick dust and
the spiders' webs. Oh, Harold, Harold! How shall I ever bear to think
of her lying there, and that I shall never see her dear face? Never!
Never!'

He tried to soothe her by patting and holding her hands. For a good
while the resolution of the girl faltered, and she was but as a little
child. Then her habitual strength of mind asserted itself. She did not
ask Harold how she came to be out in the church instead of in the crypt
when she recovered 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 Stephen had begun to thank him. He
allowed her to do so, though the sight of Harold's mouth set in scorn,
and his commanding eyes firmly fixed on him, made him grow hot and cold
alternately. He withdrew without speaking; and took his way home with a
heart full of bitterness and revengeful feelings.

In the park Stephen tried to dust herself, and then Harold tried to
assist her. But her white dress was incurably soiled, the fine dust of
the vault seemed to have got ingrained in the muslin. When she got to
the house she stole upstairs, so that no one might notice her till she
had