At eight o'clock he appeared at Ridley Court, and bade his grandfather
and grandmother good-bye. They were full of pride, and showed their
affection in indirect ways--Sir William most by offering his opinion on
the Bill and quoting Gaston frequently; Lady Belward, by saying that next
year she would certainly go up to town--she had not done so for five
years! They both agreed that a scamper on the Continent would now be
good for him. At nine o'clock he passed the rectory, on his way, strange
to note, to the church. There was one light burning, but it was not in
the study nor in Alice's window. He supposed they had not returned.
He paused and thought. If anything happened, she should know. But what
should happen? He shook his head. He moved on to the church. The doors
were unlocked. He went in, drew out a little pocket-lantern, lit it, and
walked up the aisle.

"A sentimental business this: I don't know why I do it," he thought.

He stopped at the tomb of Sir Gaston Belward, put his hand on it, and
stood looking at it.

"I wonder if there is anything in it?" he said aloud: "if he does
influence me? if we've got anything to do with each other? What he did
I seem to know somehow, more or less. A little dwarf up in my brain
drops the nuts down now and then. Well, Sir Gaston Belward, what is
going to be the end of all this? If we can reach across the centuries,
why, good-night and goodbye to you. Good-bye."

He turned and went down the aisle. At the door a voice, a whispering
voice, floated to him: "Good-bye."