“But I must get down to my night’s work, Rex. The house is singularly quiet, without any movement in the adjoining room, but that does not excuse the sacrifice of opportunity.
“With best wishes and much love,
“Affectionately yours,
“Bert.”
And nothing, not even the loss of life itself, did excuse, with Harper, “the sacrifice of opportunity.”
| “In the common round Of life’s slow action, stumbling on the brink Of sudden opportunity, he chose The only noble, godlike, splendid way, And made his exit, as earth’s great have gone, By that vast doorway looking out on death.” |
Harper was drowned on the sixth of December. Three days later, on the twenty-eighth anniversary of the day of his birth, they buried him on the crest of a hill overlooking the village in which he was born. Thus does Destiny, linking the cradle with the grave, leave us to wonder over the mysteries which she delights to weave.