He looked down wistfully at the grave. "I will follow you," he said, "if you will go on before me to the gate."
Rosamond took her husband's arm, and guided him to the path that led out of the church-yard. As they passed from sight, Uncle Joseph knelt down once more at the foot of the grave, and pressed his lips on the fresh turf.
"Good-by, my child," he whispered, and laid his cheek for a moment against the grass before he rose again.
At the gate, Rosamond was waiting for him. Her right hand was resting on her husband's arm; her left hand was held out for Uncle Joseph to take.
"How cool the breeze is!" said Leonard. "How pleasantly the sea sounds! Surely this is a fine summer day?"
"The calmest and loveliest of the year," said Rosamond. "The only clouds on the sky are clouds of shining white; the only shadows over the moor lie light as down on the heather. Oh, Lenny, it is such a different day from that day of dull oppression and misty heat when we found the letter in the Myrtle Room! Even the dark tower of our old house, yonder, looks its brightest and best, as if it waited to welcome us to the beginning of a new life. I will make it a happy life to you, and to Uncle Joseph, if I can—happy as the sunshine we are walking in now. You shall never repent, love, if I can help it, that you have married a wife who has no claim of her own to the honors of a family name."
"I can never repent my marriage, Rosamond, because I can never forget the lesson that my wife has taught me."
"What lesson, Lenny?"
"An old one, my dear, which some of us can never learn too often. The highest honors, Rosamond, are those which no accident can take away—the honors that are conferred by Love and Truth."
THE END.