rey, and he thought also of Miss Aubrey--and the
misery--the utter ruin into which he was seeking to plunge them
both--the unhallowed means which they--which--if
necessary--he--contemplated resorting to for that purpose.

Gammon's condition was becoming every moment more serious; for VIRTUE,
in the shape of Miss Aubrey, began to shine momentarily in more and more
radiant loveliness before him--and he almost felt an inclination to
sacrifice every person connected with the enterprise in which he was
engaged, if it would give him a chance of winning the favor of Miss
Aubrey. Presently, however, Mr. Aubrey, evidently heaving a deep sigh,
bent his steps slowly back towards the old gate, and quitted the
churchyard. Gammon watched his figure out of sight, and then, for the
first time since Mr. Aubrey's appearance, breathed freely. Relieved from
the pressure of his presence, Gammon began to take calmer and juster
views of his position; and he reflected, that if he pushed on the
present affair to a successful issue, he should be much more likely,
than by prematurely ending it, to gain his objects. He therefore resumed
his survey of the scene around him; and which presented appearances
highly satisfactory, judging from the expression which now and then
animated his countenance. At length he wandered round to the other end
of the church, where a crumbling wall, half covered with ivy, indicated
that there had formerly stood some building apparently of earlier date
than the church. Such was the fact. Gammon soon found himself standing
in a sort of enclosure, which had once been the site of an old chapel.
And here he had not been long making his observations, before he
achieved a discovery of so extraordinary a nature; one so unlikely,
under the circumstances, to have happened; one so calculated to baffle
ordinary calculations concerning the course of events, that the reader
may well disbelieve what I am going to tell him, and treat it as
absurdly improbable. In short, not to keep him in suspense, Gammon
positively discovered evidence of the death of Harry Dreddlington in his
father's lifetime; by means of just such a looking tombstone as he had
long imaged to himself; and as he had resolved that old Quirk should
have got prepared, before the cause came into court. He almost stumbled
over it. 'Twas an old slanting stone, scarcely a foot above the ground,
partly covered with moss, and partly hid by rubbish and long damp grass.
The moo