Soft, misty rain pitter-patted the soil of the early spring ground and on the souls who braved the miserable weather to say their departing goodbyes. The Graveyard was a sea of long black cloaks and sad faces as tears were wept for Lord Irving Brighton as he sank below the soil. A rich man in life, his now widowed bride was his most highly priced asset. She along could stretch a smile on his line-stricken face no matter what terrible happenings had stolen it away. Alodie was also the daughter of a rich farmer who owned the estate just outside of town. She and Irving had been betrothed since their childhood although they were many years apart. Irving was almost twice Alodie’s age of a humble 20 years but her parents were optimistic for him as a good husband and father. Those dreams washed away with the rain. Of corse, Irving had left his meaningless fortune to Alodie, which infuriated his family