He said only those three words, in a very low, quiet voice, but Fortune heard. His look she did not see, but she felt it—even as a person long kept in darkness might feel a sunbeam strike along the wall, making it seem possible that there might be somewhere in the earth such a thing as day.
About nine P.M. the lovers in the window recess discovered that the haar was all gone, and that it was a most beautiful moonlight night; full moon, the very night they had planned to go in a body to the top of St. Regulus tower.
"I suppose they must," said Mr. Roy to Miss Williams; adding, "Let the young folks make the most of their youth; it never will come again."
"No."
"And you and I must go too. It will be more comme il faut, as people say."
So, with a half-regretful look at the cozy fire, Mr. Roy marshaled the lively party, Janetta and David, Helen and the two boys; engaging to get them the key of that silent garden of graves over which St. Regulus tower keeps stately watch. How beautiful it looked, with the clear sky shining through its open arch, and the brilliant moonlight, bright as day almost, but softer, flooding every alley of that peaceful spot! It quieted even the noisy party who were bent on climbing the tower, to catch a view, such as is rarely equaled, of the picturesque old city and its beautiful bay.
"A 'comfortable place to sleep in,' as some one once said to me in a
Melbourne church-yard. But 'east or west, home is best.—I think, Bob,
I shall leave it in my will that you are to bury me at St. Andrews.'"
"Nonsense, Uncle Robert! You are not to talk of dying. And you are to come with us up to the top of the tower. Miss Williams, will you come too?"
"No, I think she had better not," said Uncle Robert, decisively. "She will stay here, and I will keep her company."
So the young people all vanished up the tower, and the two elders walked silently side by side the quiet graves—by the hearts which had ceased beating, the hands which, however close they lay, would never clasp one another any more.