ut when the tea was over and the table cleared away, Ishmael took the
hand of his aunt and drew her towards the door, saying:

"Aunt Hannah, I want you to go with me to my mother's grave. It will not
hurt you to do so; the night is beautiful, clear and dry, and there is
no dew."

Wondering at the deep gravity of his words and manner, Hannah allowed
him to draw her out of the house and up the hill behind it to Nora's
grave at the foot of the old oak tree. It was a fine, bright, starlight
night, and the rough headstone, rudely fashioned and set up by the
professor, gleamed whitely out from the long shadowy grass.

Ishmael sank down upon the ground beside the grave, put his arms around
the headstone, and for a space bowed his head.

Hannah seated herself upon a fragment of rock near him. But both
remained silent for a few minutes.

It was Hannah who broke the spell.

"Ishmael, my dear," she said, "why have you drawn me out here, and what
have you to say to me of such a serious nature that it can be uttered
only here?"

But Ishmael still was silent--being bowed down with thought or grief.

Reflect a moment, reader: At this very instant of time his enemy--he who
had plunged him in this grief--was in the midst of all the light and
music of the ball at Brudenell Hall; but could not enjoy himself,
because the stings of conscience irritated him, and because the frowns
of Claudia Merlin chilled and depressed him.

Ishmael was out in the comparative darkness and silence of night and
nature. Yet he, too, had his light and music--light and music more in
harmony with his mood than any artificial substitutes could be; he had
the holy light of myriads of stars shining down upon him, and the music
of myriads of tiny insects sounding around him. Mark you this, dear
reader--in light and music is the Creator forever worshiped by nature.
When the sun sets, the stars shine; and when the birds sleep, the
insects sing!

This subdued light and music of nature's evening worship suited well the
saddened yet exalted mood of our poor boy. He knew not what was before
him, what sort of revelation he was about to invoke, but he knew that,
whatever it might be, it should not shake his resolve, "to deal justly,
love mercy, and walk humbly" with his God.

Hannah, spoke again:

"Ishmael, will you answer me--why have you brought me here? What have
you to say to me so serious as to demand this grave for the place of its
hearing?"

"Aunt Han