“I know where I shall be, if I am not hanged or lost at sea.”
“Where?”
“In the little churchyard close by; it’s in the domain.”
“Are all your family interred there?”
“We have head-stones since 1650. Cromwell’s troopers destroyed everything, digging up the graves in the hope of finding armlets and golden ornaments of our race.”
“I should like to visit the churchyard.”
“By moonlight?” I said laughingly.
“Oh! yes.
“‘If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moonlight,’