orn? Do you never feel cramped--in your mind, I
mean?--feel that you want to push your way through the clouds into some
other life?"

"I feel nearer the clouds here," he answered simply.

"I suppose you are sure of content--that is to say, if you can keep free
from doubts. Still, there is the fighting instinct, you know; the
craving for action. Don't you feel that sometimes?"

"Perhaps," he admitted.

They were leaving the churchyard now. She paused abruptly, pointing to a
single grave in a part of the churchyard which seemed detached from the
rest.

"Whose grave is that?" she inquired.

He hesitated.

"It is the grave of a young girl," he told her quietly.

"But why is she buried so far off, and all alone?" Louise persisted.

"She was the daughter of one of our shepherds," he replied. "She went
into service at Carlisle, and returned here with a child. They are both
buried there."

"Because of that her grave is apart from the others?"

"Yes," he answered. "It is very seldom, I am glad to say, that anything
of the sort happens among us."

For the second time that morning Louise was conscious of an unexpected
upheaval of emotion. She felt that the sunshine had gone, that the whole
sweetness of the place had suddenly passed away. The charm of its
simple austerity had perished.

"And I thought I had found paradise!" she cried.

She moved quickly from John Strangewey's side. Before he could realize
her intention, she had stepped over the low dividing wall and was on her
knees by the side of the plain, neglected grave. She tore out the spray
of apple-blossom which she had thrust into the bosom of her gown, and
placed it reverently at the head of the little mound. For a moment her
eyes drooped and her lips moved--she herself scarcely knew whether it
was in prayer. Then she turned and came slowly back to her companion.

Something had gone, too, from his charm. She saw in him now nothing but
the coming dourness of his brother. Her heart was still heavy. She
shivered a little.

"Come," she said, "let us go back!"

They commenced the steep descent in silence. Every now and then John
held his companion by the arm to steady her somewhat uncertain
footsteps. It was he at last who spoke.

"Will you tell me, please, what is the matter with you, and why you
placed that sprig of apple-blossom where you did?"

His tone woke her from her lethargy. She was a little surprised at its
poignant, almost challenging note.