“And then,” he heaved a deep sigh, “we made a great bonfire. The wood was dry. There was not a breath of air. The flames rose straight up—up—up—till they reached the stars. We were in touch with Heaven.”
“And then?” Jeanne breathed.
“As the flames touched the stars, someone in a boat coming down the bay started music. What kind? I do not recall. Someone was playing Kreisler’s ‘Old Refrain.’ Ah,” he breathed, “it was the final touch.
“Late that night,” his voice dropped, “I threw myself on my cot and said, ‘Why should I live longer? This is life’s great moment!’
“And yet,” his voice rose again, “there is more of life—much more. And the way leads up, always upward toward the stars.
“It is late. I must be going.” Springing to his feet, the old man vanished into the night.
“What a strangely glorious old man!” Jeanne mused, as Dave came up. “And, oh!” she cried, “he was going to tell me the legend of Monument Rock!”
“He is Doctor Emery,” said Dave. “They call him ‘Dean of the Island.’ Perhaps he will tell you that story tomorrow.”
“Perhaps,” Jeanne answered.
“And yet,” she thought to herself, “it could not be half so charming as it would have been, told here beneath the stars!”