"Oh, Philip!" cried Sidney, in deep emotion, clasping the hand stretched out to him; "I feel, I feel how noble, how great you are—that you have sacrificed more than I dreamed of—"
"Hush!" said Philip, with a smile. "No talk of this. I am happier than you deem me. Go back now—she waits you."
"And you?—leave you!—alone!"
"Not alone," said Philip, pointing to the grave.
Scarce had he spoken when, from the gate, came the shrill, clear voice of
Lord Lilburne,—
"We wait for Mr. Sidney Beaufort."
Sidney passed his hand over his eyes, wrung the hand of his brother once more, and in a moment was by Camilla's side.
Another shout—the whirl of the wheels—the trampling of feet—the distant hum and murmur—and all was still. The clerk returned to lock up the church—he did not observe where Philip stood in the shadow of the wall—and went home to talk of the gay wedding, and inquire at what hour the funeral of the young woman; his next-door neighbour, would take place the next day.
It might be a quarter of an hour after Philip was thus left—nor had he moved from the spot—when he felt his sleeve pulled gently. He turned round and saw before him the wistful face of Fanny!
"So you would not come to the wedding?" said he.