"So many people want to sell, and so few care to buy," continued Mr. Lindsay. "That is just the case." "Do you know," said Mr. Lindsay, turning to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, as if it was a subject in which she must take a deep interest; "I feel sure we shall have a very fine autumn!" "You think so! You are such an excellent judge of the weather," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick in a languid voice. "I shall see the Pyrenees to advantage a month hence," said Mr. Haveloc. "Ah! you are a traveller. It is singular that nobody stays at home now-a-days," said Mr. Lindsay. "I should like to know where you would see a finer country than your own?" "I do not expect anything but novelty in my tour," said Mr. Haveloc. "True. For you it is the best thing that could happen," said the doctor, with a look of commiseration. "Change of scene. Young people, my dear Mrs. Fitzpatrick, can run away from thought. You and I are obliged to trust to time alone." It struck Mr. Haveloc that both the doctor, and Lord Raymond seemed to take for granted that he must have been attached to Aveline, for which, with his usual impatience, he set them down as idiots, and thought no more about it. At last the doctor took his leave, and then Mrs. Fitzpatrick, turning to Mr. Haveloc, said to him with a steady voice, "I should like you, Mr. Haveloc, to take me to see Aveline's grave. I do not know where it is, and I could not ask any one else to point it out to me." Mr. Haveloc consented directly. Mrs. Grant, who was still in the house, and came in with her mistress's walking-dress, was very reluctant that she should go. She founded her objections upon the wet grass, and the quantity of rain that had fallen. "My good, Mrs. Grant," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, as she fastened her shawl, "I wish a little damp grass could hurt me;" and turning to Mr. Haveloc, she repeated with a half smile. "When the mind's free, the body's delicate." It was a soft fine evening. They walked slowly, and in silence towards the church-yard. Half hidden among the hills you descended the narrow shady lane, and came suddenly upon the quiet burying-ground, and small village church. The long shadows lay upon the graves; the rooks were wheeling and settling among the surrounding trees, and the rain had called out the mingled scent of flowers and shrubs from every thicket. "It is very wet," said Mr. Haveloc, as they stepped on the long saturated grass. "It does not matter," replied Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "Do you know," she added, "that on the night of her funeral, I looked from my window, and was quite relieved to see the turf whitened by the broad moonlight. If the rain had beat on her grave that first night--but this is very weak."