Kate rested her chin on her hand and gazed at the running water, which continued while men and women live and love and die.
"He ought not to have come; it was a cowardly, selfish act, but I suppose," added the General, "he could not keep away."
"Be sure she thought none the less of him for his coming, and I think a woman will count life itself a small sacrifice for love," and Kate went over to the grave.
A thrush was singing as they turned to go, and nothing was said on the way home till they came near the Lodge.
"Who can that be going in, Kate? He seems a padre."
"I do not know, unless it be our fellow traveller from Muirtown; but he has been redressing himself, and is not improved.
"Father," and Kate stayed the General, as they crossed the threshold of their home, "we have seen many beautiful things to-day, for which I thank you; but the greatest was love."