moment of his return to Richmond, had frequently turned to the white
church and churchyard on the hill--and to the grave beside the wall.
Thither he was determined to go as soon as he possibly could, but it was
too sacred a pilgrimage to be mentioned to anyone--it must be as secret
as he could make it; and so he must await an opportunity to slip off
when he would be least apt to be missed. He chose a sultry afternoon
when Mr. and Mrs. Allan were taking a long drive into the country. He
waited until sunset--thinking there would be less probability of meeting
anyone in the churchyard after that hour than earlier--and set out,
taking with him a cluster of white roses from the summer-house in the
garden.

It was nearly dusk when he reached the church and climbed the steps that
led to the walled graveyard, elevated above the street-level. Never had
the spot looked so fair to him. The white spire, piercing the blue sky,
seemed almost to touch the slender new moon, with the evening star
glimmering by her side. The air was sweet with the breath of roses and
honeysuckle, and the graves were deeply, intensely green. Long he lay
upon the one by the wall, near the head of which he had placed his white
roses--looking up at the silver spire and the silver star and the moon's
silver bow--so long that he forgot the passage of time, and when he
reached home and went in out of the night to the bright dining-room,
blinking his great grey eyes to accustom them to the lamp-light, supper
was over.

The keen eyes of John Allan looked sternly upon him from under their
fierce brows. The boy saw at once that his foster-father was very angry.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, harshly.