"Paula, you are a mystery. That's a great thing to be, is it not?" (Somehow, he could not help talking to Paula as if she were a child.) "Explain the mystery."
"Everybody is a mystery. Explain the mystery."
"Here is an unexpected depth," he exclaimed, with some surprise. "You have dared to raise a great question. Let us seek the solution at Grandfather Eliphalet's tomb."
The tomb, renovated and neatly railed by that which Miss Claghorn secretly regarded as the sacrilegious hand of Mrs. Joe, was near the extremity of the Point. When the weary Eliphalet had been laid there to rest it had been further inland, but the ever-pounding ocean was gradually having its way, day by day encroaching upon the domain of the seemingly indestructible rocks.
"The time will come," said Mark, as the two leaned upon the railing, "when the sea will claim old Eliphalet's bones."
"And the time will come when the sea will give up its dead," said Paula.
"Perhaps," he answered gloomily; "and to what end? You will answer, in order that the dead may be judged. I still ask, to what end?"
"That is the mystery, Mark."
"Not to be answered at Eliphalet's tomb, or elsewhere. Paula, did you ever hear of Deacon Bedott?"
"You know, Mark, there are so many deacons in Hampton——"