The voice was so gentle that it helped Bertie to recover himself. He shook off the curious feeling that had oppressed him, and answered, slowly,—
“I came here to see the grave.”
“What made you come?”
The child looked at the names upon the stone, and sudden tears sprang to his eyes.
“Because I love them all,” he answered, simply, and with quivering lips. “I love them so very much, and I wanted to see—where they—”
He could not get on any further; but suddenly he found himself lifted up in a pair of strong arms and kissed as he had never been kissed in his life before, so far as he could remember.
The Squire had taken Bertie’s seat upon the strong arm of the yew tree, and the child was pressed very closely to his heart.
“And so you love them all, do you, my child?”
Bertie nodded vehemently.
“Don’t cry, my little man,” said the Squire, kindly. “What is it that troubles you?”