"That was the day after the battle of the Boyne," observed Smeaton.
The old sexton nodded his head significantly.
"Ay, sir, so it was. I recollect it well; and when they brought the body home from Ireland, these old hands dug the grave for as noble a lord and as good a man as ever lived. But it was all done very quietly, for people were in great fear of what might happen next; and the monument was not erected till two years after."
Smeaton laid his hand upon it, saying--
"It is fine in its simplicity. What became of the son who is mentioned here?"
"I don't know, sir," answered the man, shortly, and then walked on towards another part of the church, mumbling his jaws together, as if he were muttering something to himself.
Emmeline looked up in Smeaton's face with an inquiring glance; but his only comment was by taking her hand and leading her away. He might press it gently as he did so; but he said nothing till they rejoined the old man, when he inquired, in a careless tone--
"Are there not vaults, or a crypt, to this church? From the height of the pavement, I should think so."
"Oh, yes," replied Emmeline, answering for the sexton. "There is a beautiful crypt."
"Ay, but I have not got the key, my lady," said the old man.