"To Melville?" she said.
"Yes; for was it not he who invited me to Fair Acres, to find you, my darling."
Then he drew her closer, and with her hand in his arm, they walked through the quiet fields back to the little city.
The cathedral stood up in a dark mysterious mass against the clear sky. The last purple gleam was dying from the distant hills which encircle Wells; Venus hung her silver lamp over the central tower of the cathedral, and the whole scene was one of infinite peace.
They did not speak of the future, the present was sufficient for them; but the cry of Joyce's heart, even in its happiness, found words:
"Oh! that my father knew."
"He may know, my darling," Gilbert said; "and I think we may rest in the certainty that if he were here he would give me a welcome."
"Yes," Joyce said, softly; "yes, I know he would. Oh! dear father."