The door was ajar, and he tapped, but there was no reply, and the only sound within was the regular beat of the great clock as the heavy pendulum swung to and fro. "Asleep, perhaps," he said to himself, and pushing the door, he walked in; but the big arm-chair was vacant, and after a glance round, in which his eyes rested for a moment upon the old carved oak coffer, the doctor went slowly out, and, without considering which way he should go, walked straight on towards the church. A sound, as of something falling, made him raise his eyes, and he saw that the chancel door was open. "What's Salis doing there?" he said to himself; and, entering the gate, he walked up the steps to the open doorway. "You here, Salis?" he said. "Nay, sir," came back, in a harsh, familiar tone; "parson's been and gone. Things is looking up again, doctor." "Looking up?" "Ay. Been trebble quiet lately: only a bit of a child as hasn't been chrissen' this month past. Horrible healthy place, Dook's Hampton." "What are you doing here?" "Doing? Here? Why, haven't you heard as the young squire--why, of course you have; you were called up this morning. Well, he's got to be buried, hasn't he?" "Buried? Yes, of course," said the doctor thoughtfully. "Yes; he's got to be buried," said Moredock. "Some says it arn't decent and like Christians, as ought to be buried tight in the brown earth. But they don't know, doctor. They can't tell what a lot o' water there is in the ground o' winters. I know, and I know what 'matics is. Nobody knows how damp that there churchyard is better than I do, doctor." North stood looking at the sexton, but his thoughts were far away. "Ay, Squire Luke 'll be buried in the morslem--he'll lie with his fathers, as Scripter says; and when I die, which won't be this twenty year, that's how I'd like to lie with my fathers. Stretched out nice and warm in his lead coffin, that's how he's going to be, and put on a nice dry shelf. Ay, it's a nasty damp old churchyard, doctor, and well they folk in Church Row know it. He, he, he! their wells is allus full o' nice clean water, but I allus goes to the fur pump." North did not seem to hear a word, but stood holding on by the rail of the Candlish tomb, thinking. His head swam with the dazzling light that blazed into his understanding. He was confused, and full of wonder, hesitation, and doubt. Luke Candlish--dead--the mausoleum--the hale, hearty young man--struck down. "Good heavens!" he ejaculated; "has my opportunity come--at last?" END OF VOLUME ONE. Volume 2, Chapter I. THE FIRST BARONET'S TOMB. As Horace North battled with his thoughts, Moredock chuckled and went on: