The white daylight on his right side gleamed faintly in, and was
toned to a blueness by contrast with the yellow rays from the
candle against the wall. Elfride, timidly shrinking back, and
nearest the entrance, received most of the light therefrom, whilst
Stephen was entirely in candlelight, and to him the spot of outer
sky visible above the steps was as a steely blue patch, and
nothing more.
'I have been here two or three times since it was opened,' said
Stephen. 'My father was engaged in the work, you know.'
'Yes. What are you doing?' Knight inquired, looking at the note-
book and pencil Stephen held in his hand.
'I have been sketching a few details in the church, and since then
I have been copying the names from some of the coffins here.
Before I left England I used to do a good deal of this sort of
thing.'
'Yes; of course. Ah, that's poor Lady Luxellian, I suppose.'
Knight pointed to a coffin of light satin-wood, which stood on the
stone sleepers in the new niche. 'And the remainder of the family
are on this side. Who are those two, so snug and close together?'
Stephen's voice altered slightly as he replied 'That's Lady
Elfride Kingsmore--born Luxellian, and that is Arthur, her
husband. I have heard my father say that they--he--ran away with
her, and married her against the wish of her parents.'
'Then I imagine this to be where you got your Christian name, Miss
Swancourt?' said Knight, turning to her.
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