My lord turned and looked about him. The moonlight spread softly over the tombstones, the dark houses beyond the railings and the plain lines of the church. A low wind swept through the thick grass and bore long wreaths of clouds over the sharp outline of the roofs. It was utterly silent; there seemed no one abroad. My lord pictured the dark lonely interior of the church and the draped urn in a niche in the nave. He had only looked at it once, but very clearly he could see the lettering, even the way it was placed, on the marble tablet below: NEAR THIS SPOT LIE THE MORTAL REMAINS OF LAVINIA, WIFE OF THE FOURTEENTH EARL OF LYNDWOOD, Who died July 16, 1750, aged 23 years. It was an inscription sinister in its brevity; the scandal, hushed as it was, attending my lady's death had allowed of no details, and my lord's humour permitted no eulogy, but it seemed to him now that he might have added some word of charity, for the sight of the churchyard and the thought of the cold church made him shudder with a feeling that was like pity for the unloved dead. The locked door in no way shook his determination to place Selina's flowers where he had meant they should lie, and to-night--it must be to-night. To-morrow there were other things to do. Well he knew himself fickle, and that he could not foretell his own next mood; but now, this moment, he must enter the empty church and lay the dead white roses in the niche that held my lady's urn. He caught the mantle over his flashing dress and crossed the churchyard. He thought he remembered where the sacristan lived; he thought the man, knowing him, would give him the key or open the church, and he put his hand into his pocket to find his purse. As he did so the sound of voices made him pause. Sounds of laughter, loud talking, the rattle of sword-hilts on the cobbles came up the narrow street. The Earl frowned, hesitated, opened the churchyard gate and looked out. By the moonlight and the glimmer of the swinging overhead lamps he could see a party of gentlemen advancing towards him. With an exclamation of annoyance he closed the gate. Not so quietly, however, that they, almost on him now, did not hear it, and stopped instantly arrested. "Is the churchyard open?" said one, and my lord knew the voice and figure--it was Lord Sandys. "La! A footpad!" replied another. But some of them had caught a glimpse of the Earl's white and silver under his cloak. "By Gad! A gallant, wooing a ghost!" Rose Lyndwood opened the gate and stepped out into the street. He felt a great and unreasonable anger against these men, all of whom he knew, and some of whom were chosen companions of his. "Split me, it is Lyndwood!" He faced them impatiently. "I am on business of mine own." Both tone and situation were so unusual for Lyndwood that a laugh ran round the group. "Hast fallen lovesick at last, my lord?"