After the service was over, and the bulk of the congregation filed out, she still remained in her seat, dreamily listening to the exquisite organ melody. It was one of Chopin’s most beautiful Nocturnes, sweetly mournful and pathetic in parts, but occasionally displaying the fervour of its restrained passion. Celia knew it well, but she had never heard it played amidst such surroundings before. The building was now in semi-darkness, the glare of the electric light having been replaced by the softening shadows of night. At the altar a surpliced choir-boy was extinguishing the six candles, one by one. He performed the action with care and reverence; and then quietly withdrew. And still the music played on, rising and falling like the throbbing of a heart; and still, with her face turned towards the east--where the sacred symbol stood out in bold relief--Celia listened. At last, recollecting that her brother might be waiting, she passed on tip-toe down the aisle and through the porch. But he was not there; so, knowing that he would not like her to wait about alone, she began to make her way towards the hotel. It was a fine night, frosty and dry. There was no moon, but the stars shone with dazzling splendour. Celia crossed over to the esplanade, and stood contemplating the prospect for a moment, whilst the salt breeze brushed against her cheek. As she gazed at the vast expanse of sky and ocean, and listened to the dull roar of the waves, some lines she had once sung in the “Golden Legend” recurred to her memory: “The night is calm and cloudless, And still as still can be, The stars come forth to listen To the music of the sea.” She loved all the sounds of Nature, but especially that “music of the sea.” Its chords were deep and resonant; and full of meaning to those who had ears to listen to its ever-changing harmonies. All around was mystery; mystery in the impenetrable height of the starry heavens; mystery in the great depth of the moving waters. What was beyond and below?--she wondered with reverential awe; and realizing--if ever so slightly--the majestic grandeur of the great Creator’s handiwork, an overpowering sense of her own littleness overcame her, until, with a sudden longing for human companionship, she turned to continue her walk. “‘_In maiden meditation, fancy free_,’” quoted a familiar voice close behind her. “Star-gazing is a pleasant occupation for two, but rather lonesome for one in solitude. May I join you, Celia dear?” It was nearly four years since she had last seen him, but even in the darkness, she recognized his stalwart form. “Geoffrey!” she exclaimed. “At last!” And try as she would, she could not keep the joy out of her voice.