The hard, stern look passed from the lad's face at the words; he turned, sat down by his brother, and clasped him tightly in his arms. Neither spoke for some time; at last Hubert broke the silence.
"How beautiful the moonlight is to-night!"
It was indeed a glorious sight. Sheer down two hundred feet and more below them lay the calm, mirror-like sea, reflecting the moonbeams in a pathway of silver, stretching far, far into the horizon, till it ended in a distant speck on the great North Sea. The stars were paled by the radiance, but still stood out gloriously in the clear still atmosphere, like specks of shining foam dashed up from the silvery sea below. No sound broke the stillness but the low beating of the surf and the scream of a sea-bird skimming through the air after its prey. It seemed in that lone, desolate spot as if there might be no other living creature in existence but the bird flitting across the landscape. The two lads nestled under the cloak and--the watcher!
"The moon was at the full, you know, when He died, Geoffrey, and fell upon his cross and his tomb. I wonder if it falls as brightly in that far-off land as it does here? Father Humphrey told me all about it the last time the moon was full, just before he died. How sad, and yet how glad a thing it was for Christ to die, Geoffrey! I can hardly tell where the sadness ends and the gladness begins, they seem so mingled in it all. May I talk to you about it now?"
"Yes, if you are warm," and the arm was drawn more tightly around the slender form.
"Oh! yes, I am so comfortable now;" and then he began, and in sweet, touching eloquence detailed the well-known story of the persecuted Nazarene. He drew the picture of the lowly manger, of the carpenter's workshop; he spoke of Him as homeless, hungry, thirsty, weary, desolate, despised, rejected, betrayed. He followed him to the garden, the judgment-hall, the cross. He described in burning words the gibes, the mocks, the sneers, the insults, the cruelty, the hatred that followed the meek and gentle Jesus from the cradle to the grave.
"And He forgave them, Geoffrey," said the little speaker, as he closed the account, "he forgave them every one."
"He was a God," said Geoffrey solemnly.
"Yes, but he was a man too, and out of his man's heart, as well as his God's heart, he forgave them."
The elder lad's face had softened strangely; there was a moisture on the lashes which shaded his downcast eyes.