“HERE.”
“Here! what do you mean by that?”
“I mean that he is here.”
“Where here?”
“Under us. He is under this tomb. He is dead, and we are sitting on his grave.”
“Elfie,” said the young man, standing up and looking at the tomb, “how odd and sad that revelation seems! It quite depresses me for the moment.”
“Stephen! I didn’t wish to sit here; but you would do so.”
“You never encouraged him?”
“Never by look, word, or sign,” she said solemnly. “He died of consumption, and was buried the day you first came.”
“Let us go away. I don’t like standing by HIM, even if you never loved him. He was BEFORE me.”