There still used to be a
light in the windows of the room which he remembered so well, and in
which the saint who loved him had passed so many hours of care and
yearning and prayer. He turned away his gaze from the faint light
which seemed to pursue him with its wan reproachful gaze, as though it
was his mother's spirit watching and warning. How clear the night was!
How keen the stars shone; how ceaseless the rush of the flowing
waters; the old home trees whispered, and waved gently their dark
heads and branches over the cottage roof. Yonder, in the faint
starlight glimmer, was the terrace where, as a boy, he walked of
summer evenings, ardent and trustful, unspotted, untried, ignorant of
doubts or passions; sheltered as yet from the world's contamination in
the pure and anxious bosom of love.... The clock of the near town
tolling midnight, with a clang disturbs our wanderer's reverie, and
sends him onward toward his night's resting-place, through the lodge
into Clavering avenue, and under the dark arcades of the
rustling limes.
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