fell on the little
church hidden away amongst trees at the bottom of the village, and her
heart leaped. She turned to the girl who was picking fruit and watching
her at the same time. "I am going down to the churchyard to sit in the
shade," she said. "I will be back again by the time tea is ready," and
before the girl could reply she had hurried away.

The top of the village seemed to be the favourite spot at Windycross for
the villagers to congregate; most of the houses were up there, too, while
the lower end where the church stood was as deserted as the other end was
sought after; to Stella's great joy she did not see a single person, and
as she clambered over the stone stile which led into it, and wandered
along the overgrown paths, she felt as though she was as safe from
intrusion as though she had been in the middle of the moor. The fact was,
the yard had long ceased to be used as a burying-ground, and the church
itself was as nearly deserted by the present generation of villagers, for
a clergyman came only once a month to hold service there, and while the
old building gradually became a ruin, a flourishing chapel sprang up to
satisfy the needs of the neglected people.

But Stella knew and thought nothing of this; she was only bent on finding
a comfortable, secluded seat, where she sat and unwrapped her parcel.
She thought of Paul's surprise, and how pleased he would be, she dipped
into the pages here and there and read a few lines, admired the covers,
and enjoyed the delightful smell new books so often have, and at last,
half reluctantly, she wrapped her treasure up in its paper again, trying
to make it look as neat as when the shopman had handed it to her.
That done she got up to explore further. It was a weird, neglected spot
she had got into. Numbers of tombstones lay about as they had fallen,
others were leaning over looking as though another gale would lay them
flat too. The shrubs which had been planted on the graves had grown to be
great, unkempt bushes, spreading over many other graves than the one they
had been planted on; tiny saplings had become big trees, forcing out
tombstones and curbs, and everywhere the rank grass grew high up into the
bushes. But greatest of all dilapidations was that of the church itself;
many of the windows had been broken, and were left unrepaired; here and
there a great piece of stonework had fallen away; the outer gates of the
porch hung loose on one hinge. Stella en