"What a graveyard! One would say the time had come for it to give up its dead and it was passionately fighting against the immutable decree. Is Jack somewhere out there?"
He turned and fixed his eyes upon Uniacke's face. Uniacke's eyes fell.
"Is he?" repeated Sir Graham.
"How can I tell?" exclaimed Uniacke, almost with a sudden anger. "Let us go back."
Towards evening the storm suddenly abated. A pale yellow light broke along the horizon, almost as the primroses break out along the horizon of winter. The thin black spars of a hurrying vessel pointed to the illumination and vanished, leaving the memory of a tortured gesture from some sea-thing. And as the yellow deepened to gold, the Skipper set the church bells ringing. Sir Graham opened the parlour window wide and listened, leaning out towards the graves. Uniacke was behind him in the room. Vapour streamed up from the buffeted earth, which seemed panting for a repose it had no strength to gain. Ding dong! Ding dong! The wild and far-away light grew to flame and faded to darkness. In the darkness the bells seemed clearer, for light deafens the imagination. Uniacke felt a strange irritability coming upon him. He moved uneasily in his chair, watching the motionless, stretched figure of his guest. Presently he said:
"Sir Graham!"
There was no reply.
"Sir Graham!"
He got up, crossed the little room and touched the shoulder of the dreamer. Sir Graham started sharply and turned a frowning face.
"What is it?"