"I suppose you are sure of content—that is to say, if you can keep free from doubts. Still, there is the fighting instinct, you know; the craving for action. Don't you feel that sometimes?"
"Perhaps," he admitted.
They were leaving the churchyard now. She paused abruptly, pointing to a single grave in a part of the churchyard which seemed detached from the rest.
"Whose grave is that?" she inquired.
He hesitated.
"It is the grave of a young girl," he told her quietly.
"But why is she buried so far off, and all alone?" Louise persisted.
"She was the daughter of one of our shepherds," he replied. "She went into service at Carlisle, and returned here with a child. They are both buried there."
"Because of that her grave is apart from the others?"
"Yes," he answered. "It is very seldom, I am glad to say, that anything of the sort happens among us."