rce to
natural fears, throw open for a space the gates of our world-sealed
imagination, to tenant its vast halls with prophetic echoes of our
end? Perhaps it is useless to inquire. The result remains the same:
few of us can hear those tones at night without a qualm, and, did we
put our thoughts into words, they would run something thus:

"That sound once broke upon the living ears of those who sleep around
us. We hear it now. In a little while, hour after hour, it will echo
against the tombstones of _our_ graves, and new generations, coming
out of the silent future, will stand where we stand, and hearken; and
muse, as we mused, over the old problems that we have gone to solve;
whilst we--shall we not be deaf to hear and dumb to utter?"

Such, at any rate, were the unspoken thoughts that crept into the
hearts of Arthur and Angela as the full sound from the belfry thinned
itself away into silence. She grew a little pale, and glanced at him,
and he gave an involuntary shiver, while even the dog Aleck sniffed
and whined uncomfortably.

"It feels cold," he said. "Shall we go?"

They turned and walked towards the gate, and, by the time they reached
it, all superstitious thoughts had vanished--at any rate, from
Arthur's mind, for he recollected that he had set himself a task to
do, and that now would be the time to do it. Absorbed in this
reflection, he forgot his politeness, and passed first through the
turnstile. On the further side he paused, and looked earnestly into
his beloved's face. Their eyes met, and there was that in his that
caused her to swiftly drop her own. A silence ensued as they stood by
the gate. He broke it.

"It is a lovely night. Let us walk through the ruins."

"I shall wet my feet: the dew must be falling."

"There is no dew falling to-night. Won't you come?"

"Let us go to-morrow; it is later than I generally go in. Pigott will
wonder what has become of me."

"Never mind Pigott. The night is too fine to waste asleep; besides,
you know, one should always look at ruins by moonlight. Please come."

She looked at him doubtfully, hesitated, and came.

"What do you want to see?" she said presently, with as near an
approach to irritation as he had ever heard her indulge in. "That is
the famous window that Mr. Fraser always goes into raptures about."

"It is beautiful. Shall we sit down here and look at it?"

They sat down on a low mass of fallen masonry some fifteen paces from
the window. Arou