right hand, took Harold's arm with the left, and with beating heart
entered the crypt.

For several minutes Harold kept her engaged, telling her about the
crypt in his father's church, and how he went down at his last visit
to see the coffin of his dear father, and how he knelt before it.
Stephen was much moved, and held tight to his arm, her heart beating.
But in the time she was getting accustomed to the place. Her eyes,
useless at first on coming out of the bright sunlight, and not able
to distinguish anything, began to take in the shape of the place and
to see the rows of great coffins that stood out along the far wall.
She also saw with surprise that the newest coffin, on which for
several reasons her eyes rested, was no longer dusty but was
scrupulously clean. Following with her eyes as well as she could see
into the further corners she saw that there the same reform had been
effected. Even the walls and ceiling had been swept of the hanging
cobwebs, and the floor was clean with the cleanliness of ablution.
Still holding Harold's arm, she moved over towards her mother's
coffin and knelt before it. Harold knelt with her; for a little
while she remained still and silent, praying inwardly. Then she
rose, and taking her great bunch of flowers placed them lovingly on
the lid of the coffin above where she thought her mother's heart
would be. Then she turned to Harold, her eyes flowing and her cheeks
wet with tears, and laid her head against his breast. Her arms could
not go round his neck till he had bent his head, for with his great
height he simply towered above her. Presently she was quiet; the
paroxysm of her grief had passed. She took Harold's hand in both
hers, and together they went to the door. With his disengaged hand,
for he would not have disturbed the other for worlds, Harold put out
the lights and locked the door behind them.