CHAPTER VI.
Why sleeps he not, when others are at rest ?--Byron.
According to the explanation I had received, the road I was now to pursue was somewhat longer, but much better, than that which I generally took.

It was to lead me home through the churchyard of--, the same, by the by, which Lord Vincent had particularized in his anecdote of the mysterious stranger.

The night was clear, but windy: there were a few light clouds passing rapidly over the moon, which was at her full, and shone through the frosty air, with all that cold and transparent brightness so peculiar to our northern winters.

I walked briskly on till I came to the churchyard; I could not then help pausing (notwithstanding my total deficiency in all romance) to look for a few moments at the exceeding beauty of the scene around me.

The church itself was extremely old, and stood alone and grey, in the rude simplicity of the earliest form of gothic architecture: two large dark yew-trees drooped on each side over tombs, which from their size and decorations, appeared to be the last possession of some quondam lords of the soil.