Arriving in the dim and beauteous old fane, the first thing he saw was
Isobel standing alone in the chancel, right in the heart of a shaft of
light that fell on her through the rich-coloured glass of the great
west window, for now it was late in the afternoon. She wore a very
unusual white garment that became her well, but had no hat on her
head. Perhaps this was because she had taken the fancy to do her
plentiful fair hair in the old Plantagenet fashion, that is in two
horns, which, with much ingenuity she had copied more or less
correctly from the brass of an ancient, noble lady, whereof the two
intended to take an impression. Also she had imitated some of the
other peculiarities of that picturesque costume, including the long,
hanging sleeves. In short, she wore a fancy dress which she proposed
to use afterwards at a dance, and one of the objects of the rubbing
they were about to make, was that she might study the details more
carefully. At least, that was her object. Godfrey's was to obtain an
impression of the crabbed inscription at the foot of the effigy.

There she stood, tall and imposing, her arms folded on her young
breast, the painted lights striking full on her broad, intellectual
forehead and large grey eyes, shining too in a patch of crimson above
her heart. Lost in thought and perfectly still, she looked strange
thus, almost unearthly, so much so that the impressionable and
imaginative Godfrey, seeing her suddenly from the shadow, halted,
startled and almost frightened.

What did she resemble? What might she not be? he queried to himself.
His quick mind suggested an answer. The ghost of some lady dead ages
since, killed, for there was the patch of blood upon her bosom,
standing above the tomb wherein her bones crumbled, and dreaming of
someone from whom she had been divorced by doom and violence.