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 last time, when he leaves it; the time between when he takes to his side a partner in all the sorrows--in all the joys that yet remain to him; and who, even when the last bell announces his death to this earth, may yet, for ever and ever, be his partner in that world to come--that heaven, where they who are as innocent as you, Fanny, may hope to live and to love each other in a land in which there are no graves!" "And this bell?" "Tolls for that partnership--for the wedding!" "I think I understand you;--and they who are to be wed are happy?"