head of land, and he walked
up among the graves to find a place where he might be sheltered and yet
have advantage of the view. He knew that close by the edge of the
cliff, over the grave of the shipwrecked people, stood a marble cross,
large enough to shelter a man somewhat if he leaned against it. Upon
this cross was a long inscription giving a touching account of the
wreck, and stating that it was erected by Matilda Moore, wife of the
vicar, out of grief for the sad occurrence, and with an earnest prayer
for the unknown bereaved ones.

The curate was rather fond of reading this inscription, as we all are
apt to be fond of going over words which, although perfectly familiar to
us, still leave some space for curiosity concerning their author and
origin, and he was wondering idly as he walked whether there would be
light enough from the moon to read them now. The wind came, like the
moonlight, from the south-east, and he walked round by the western side
of the graveyard in order to come up the knoll on which the cross stood
by the sheltered side. Everything around him was intensely bleak and
white, for the moon, having left the horizon, had lost her golden light,
and the colouring of the night had toned down to white and purple.
Patches of wild white cloud were scudding across the pallid purple sky
beneath the stars, and there was a silver causeway across the purple
sea. The purple was not unlike that of an amethyst. The cliffs sloped
back to the town; the boats and peaked roofs and church tower were seen
by the sharp outline of their masses of light and shade. The street
lamps were not lit in the town because of the moon, and only in two or
three places there was the warm glow of a casement fringed with the rays
of a midnight candle. To the left of the cliffs, close to the town, were
the trees of the squire's park and the roof of the Hall. Perhaps it was
because the curate was looking at these things, as he walked among the
graves, that he did not look at the monument towards which he was making
way, until he came within half a dozen yards of it; then he suddenly saw
that there was another man leaning against it, half hid in the shadow.
He stopped at once and stood looking.

The man had thrown his arms backward over the arms of the cross, and was
leaning, half hanging, upon it; the young priest was inexpressibly
shocked and startled by the attitude. He knew that none of the humbler
inhabitants of the town would ventur