u speak to Fanny? Will you not walk with her? Perhaps
my grandfather will come too."

"Not this evening. I shall go out; but it will be alone."

"Where? Has not Fanny been good? I have not been out since you left us.
And the grave--brother!--I sent Sarah with the flowers--but--"

Vaudemont rose abruptly. The mention of the grave brought back his
thoughts from the dreaming channel into which they had flowed. Fanny,
whose very childishness had once so soothed him, now disturbed; he felt
the want of that complete solitude which makes the atmosphere of growing
passion: he muttered some scarcely audible excuse, and quitted the
house. Fanny saw him no more that evening. He did not return till
midnight. But Fanny did not sleep till she heard his step on the stairs,
and his chamber door close: and when she did sleep, her dreams were
disturbed and painful. The next morning, when they met at breakfast (for
Vaudemont did not return to London), her eyes were red and heavy,
and her cheek pale. And, still buried in meditation, Vaudemont's eye,
usually so kind and watchful, did not detect those signs of a grief that
Fanny could not have explained. After breakfast, however, he asked
her to walk out; and her face brightened as she hastened to put on her
bonnet, and take her little basket full of fresh flowers which she had
already sent Sarah forth to purchase.

"Fanny," said Vaudemont, as leaving the house, he saw the basket on
her arm, "to-day you may place some of those flowers on another
tombstone!--Poor child, what natural goodness there is in that
heart!--what pity that--"

He paused. Fanny looked delightedly in his face. "You were praising
me--you! And what is a pity, brother?"

While she spoke, the sound of the joy-bells was heard near at hand.

"Hark!" said Vaudemont, forgetting her question--and almost
gaily--"Hark!--I accept the omen. It is a marriage peal!"

He quickened his steps, and they reached the churchyard.

There was a crowd already assembled, and Vaudemont and Fanny paused;
and, leaning over the little gate, looked on.

"Why are these people here, and why does the bell ring so merrily?"

"There is to be a wedding, Fanny."

"I have heard of a wedding very often," said Fanny, with a pretty look
of puzzlement and doubt, "but I don't know exactly what it means. Will
you tell me?--and the bells, too!"

"Yes, Fanny, those bells toll but three times for man! The first time,
when he comes into the world; the l