"Yes; my own. It is mine now. I come in after Harry," he added very hurriedly, to cover the last sentence, which had slipped out inadvertently: "and my uncle resigns it to, me at once."
"Oh dear," said Ethel, more and more bewildered. "But it would cost so much to live here."
"Not more than I can afford to spend," he answered with a smile. "I told you, Ethel, if you remember, that I expected to come into some property, though I was not sure of it. I have come into it. What would have been poor Anthony's had he lived, is now mine."
"But--is Anthony really dead?"
"Ay. I will tell you about it later. The present question is, Ethel, whether you will share my home here at Greylands' Rest."
He spoke with a smile, crossed over, and stood before her on the shabby old hearthrug. Just one moment of maiden hesitation, of a sweet rising blush, and she bent forward to the arms that were opened to encircle her.
"One home together here," he fondly murmured, bending his face on hers. "One Heaven hereafter."
[CHAPTER XXXIX.]
NO TURNING BACK.
Once more the whole population of Greylands turned out in commotion. A sad and silent commotion, however, this time, as befitted the cause. Voices were hushed to a low tone, faces showed sadness, the church bell was tolling. People had donned their best attire; the fishermen were in their churchgoing clothes, their boats, hauled up on the beach or lying at anchor, had rest to-day. All who could muster a scrap of mourning had put it on, though it was but an old crape hatband, or a bit of black bonnet-ribbon. Mr. Harry Castlemaine was about to be buried; and he had been a favourite with high and low.