Black Wena, when it was dark that evening, and Clayton must have done dinner, had stolen away to his dressing–room, and fetched, as she had been taught to do, his smoking–jacket and slippers. It took her a long time to carry the jacket, for fear it should be wet for him. Then she came with a very important air, and put them down upon his grave, and wagged her tail for approval. She was lying there now, and wondering how much longer till he would be ready. Cradock sobbed hysterically, and Amy led him softly away to the place where his travelling–bag was. “Now, wait here one moment, my poor dear, and I will bring you your future companion”. Presently Amy came back, with Wena following the coat and the slippers. “Darling Cradock, take her with you. She is so true and faithful. She will die if she is left here. And she will be such a comfort to you. Take her, Cradock, _for my sake_”. The last entreaty settled it. Cradock took the coat and slippers, and carried Wena a little way, while she looked back wistfully at the churchyard, and Amy coaxed and patted her. They agreed on the road that Amy Rosedew should call upon Miss Garnet to restore the bracelet, and should mark how she received it; for Amy had now a strong suspicion (especially after what Cradock had seen, which now became intelligible) that Pearl knew more of poor Claytonʼs death than had been confessed to any one. “My own Cradock, only think”, said Amy; “I have felt the strongest conviction, throughout, that you had nothing to do with it”. “Sweetest one”, he replied, with a desperate longing to clasp her, but for Wena and the carpetbag, “that is only because you love me. Never say it again, dear; suspense, or even doubt about it, would kill me like slow poison”. Amy shuddered at his tone, and thought how different men were: for a woman would live on the hope of it. But she remembered those words when the question arose, and rejoiced that he knew not the whole of it. And now with the great drops in her eyes, she stood at her fatherʼs gate, to say good–bye to her love. She would not let him know that she cried; but Wena was welcome to know it, and Wena licked some tears off, and then quite felt for Amy. “Good–bye, my own, my only”, said Cradock, for the twentieth time; even the latch of the gate was trembling; “God loves us, after all, Amy. Or, at any rate, He loves you”. “And you, and you. Oh, Cradock! if He loves one, He must love both of us”. “I believe He does”, said Cradock; “since I have seen you, I am sure of it. Now I care not for the world, except my world in you”. “Dearest darling, life of my life, promise me not to fret again”. “Fret, indeed, with you to love me! Give me just one more”.