At the head of the grave Marion had caused a simple stone to be erected, with merely these words,—
STELLA.
ASLEEP IN JESUS.
As they were turning to leave the sacred spot, he pointed to it, and tried to utter the words,—
"Thank you," but his voice choked.
Now, he in whom she had taken so deep an interest, whose happiness had for a time been so intimately interwoven with her own, had sailed for England. He had made a hasty call, on his return from Grantbury, and received from her the precious letters assuring him of his sister's affection. He had seemed ill at ease when she thanked him for allowing her to peruse them, pressed her hand warmly as he bade her farewell, took his hat from the table in the hall then suddenly threw it down again, exclaiming,—
"I cannot leave you without saying, if we never meet again, I shall die blessing you for your goodness to Stella and to me. Miss Howard, you have opened a new future before me. You—but I cannot,—I ought not to say more. Will you add one favor to the many I have received at your hands? Will you answer a letter from me? May I tell you of my visit to my native land, to the graves of my parents?"
He fixed his eyes full on hers, which at last fell before the ardor of his gaze, while she answered frankly,—
"Mr. Angus, for Stella's sake and for your own, I shall be very glad to hear from you. My time will be spent among my poor. If I find anything to interest you, I will certainly write in answer to yours."
Marion was practical rather than sentimental, and she plunged into the business of life as though nothing more than usual had occurred.