CHAPTER IV
“Of my grief (guess the length of the sword by the sheath’s);
By the silence of life, more pathetic than death’s!
Go—be clear of that day.”
E. Barrett Browning.
The Park seemed dull and well-nigh deserted when, at about ten o’clock on the following day, Fraulein Ellerbeck and the two children made their way to the water’s edge. Fraulein said she would establish herself on a seat in a sheltered nook not far off, and the children carried her book and her knitting-bag for her, chatting as they walked. Pacing slowly towards them was a figure which somehow arrested their attention.
“Why,” said Evereld, lowering her voice, “it is surely the man we saw as Benedick, last March, Fraulein. It’s Hugh Macneillie, the actor.”
Ralph looked curiously and with great interest at a member of the profession which had such charms for him.