time to spare than he cared to have. He sat down by Lord Charlewood's
side, and they held together the conversation that led to such strange
results.

"I should not like a cold, stone grave for my beautiful wife," said Lord
Charlewood. "She was so fair, so _spirituelle_, she loved all nature so
dearly; she loved the flowers, trees, and the free fresh air of heaven.
Let her be where she can have them all now."

The doctor looked up with mild reproach in his eyes.

"She has something far better than the flowers of this world," he said.
"If ever a dead face told of rest and peace, hers does; I have never
seen such a smile on any other."

"I should like to find her a grave where the sun shines and the dew
falls," observed Lord Charlewood--"where grass and flowers grow and
birds sing in the trees overhead. She would not seem so far away from me
then."

"You can find many such graves in the pretty church-yard here in
Castledene," said the doctor.

"In time to come," continued Lord Charlewood, "she shall have the
grandest marble monument that can be raised, but now a plain white cross
will be sufficient, with her name, Madaline Charlewood; and, doctor,
while I am away you will have the grave attended to--kept bright with
flowers--tended as for some one that you loved."

Then they went out together to the green church-yard at the foot of the