He would have proceeded further but that a sudden spasm from Mr. Weston diverted his attention. Following the direction of Mr. Weston's eyes, he turned toward the folding windows.
"Did you hear nothing?" asked Mr. Weston in a low tone.
"No."
"I fancied," murmured Mr. Weston, in explanation, "that I heard a step upon the veranda."
Mr. Rowe went to the window, and partly drew the curtains aside. The moon was rising, and the soft light could be seen through the opening.
"There is no one there," said Mr. Rowe, returning to Mr. Weston's side. "As I was saying, when we have lost those whom we loved best in the world, and whose natural and innocent desires we thwarted while they lived, we beat our breasts and reproach ourselves----"
Again he was interrupted. Michael Lee, the doorkeeper, entered the room, and following Mr. Rowe's last word, came Michael Lee's announcement:
"Mr. Reuben Thorne."
Mr. Weston's face grew white as the person announced approached and bowed.
"I am late," said the new-comer, dropping into a chair; "but better late than never, they say."