For remember, that in a majority of instances, long before the Cross rose above these sites, they had been the sacred places of faith after faith. Sun-worshippers, Nature-worshippers, Druids, votaries of Jove and Venus, servants of Odin, Thor and Friga, early Christians who were half one thing and half another, all have here bowed their brows to earth in adoration of God as they understood Him, and in these hallowed spots lies mingled the dust of every one of them. So Godfrey felt in that hour and the same influences impinged upon and affected even the girl’s bold, denying soul. She acknowledged them to herself, and after a woman’s way, turned and almost fiercely laid the blame upon her companion. “You have infected me with your silly superstitions,” she said, stamping her foot as they shut and locked the door of the church. “I feel afraid of something, I don’t know what, and I was never afraid of anything before.” “What superstitions?” he asked, apologetically. “I don’t remember mentioning any.” “There is no need for you to mention them, they ooze out of you. As though I could not read your mind! There’s no need for you to talk to tell me what you are thinking of, death—and separations which are as bad, and unknown things to come, and all sorts of horrors.” “That’s odd,” he remarked, still without emotion, for he was used to these attacks from Isobel which, as he knew, when she was upset, always meant anything but what she said, “for as a matter of fact I was thinking of a separation. I am going away, Isobel, or rather, my father is sending me away.” He turned, and pointing to the stormy western sky where the day died in splendour, added simply in the poetic imagery that so often springs to the lips of youth: “There sets our sun; at least it is the last we shall look upon together for a whole year. You go to London to-morrow, don’t you? Before you come back I shall be gone.” “Gone! Why? Where? Oh! what’s the use of asking? I knew something of the sort was coming. I felt it in that horrible old church. And after all, why should I mind? What does it matter if you go away for a year or ten years—except that you are the only friend I have—especially as no doubt you are glad to get out of this dreadful hole? Don’t stand there looking at me like a moon-calf, whatever that may be, but tell me what you mean, or I’ll, I’ll——” and she stopped. Then he told her—well, not quite everything, for he omitted his father’s disparaging remarks about herself. She listened in her intent fashion, and filled in the gaps without difficulty. “I see,” she said. “Your father thinks that I am corrupting you about religion, as though anybody could corrupt you when you have got an idea into your stupid head; at least, on those subjects. Oh! I hate him, worse even than I do my own, worse than you do yourself.” Godfrey, thinking aloud, began to quote the Fourth Commandment. She cut him short: