The scene in the garden was so beautiful that few words were spoken. It was as if the very world held its breath and listened. A silence fell on every one, for every heart was full of prayer. Margaret forgot all her guests for a few minutes, and slipped her hand within the arm of her husband. Miss Whitwell stood a little apart from the rest, thinking her own thoughts. Dr. Stapleton whispered to Miss Wythburn an old wish from Shakespeare— “God give thee many days of happy years.” Arthur Knight repeated his own words: “Give pardon to-night, O God of the light!” Then the silence was so deep that it seemed almost as if their thoughts could be heard. Perhaps they were! Miss Whitwell softly whispered hers—“The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, the name of the God of Jacob defend thee; send thee help from the sanctuary, and strengthen thee out of Zion; remember all thy offerings, and accept thy burnt sacrifice; grant thee thy heart’s desire, and fulfil all thy mind.” Some irresistible power drew her eyes to where Arthur Knight was standing, looking perhaps the most sorrowfully of any of the party. He met her look, and a thought flashed into his mind that electrified him. “Can it be possible! Did she really only care for Dallington as a cousin! What does it mean? Can it be?——” With a sudden impulse of hope he stepped to her side. “Grace,” he said, “the old house in London is very solitary; and so is the heart of its owner, in Craighelbyl as well as in London.” “Oh, no, no!” she said. “How can you be solitary when you have been so honoured?” “Grace, do you know that I love you, that I have loved you all the time, ever since I first knew you?” Again she whispered, “Oh, no, no!” scarcely knowing what she said. But Arthur had put his arm around her, and could feel the beating of her heart. “Oh, my darling,” he said, “is it possible that you can care for me? I had not dared to hope it! Is it really true that we may begin the year together—_together_?” The first stroke of the Darentdale church clock struck through the silence of the night. Arthur drew the trembling girl more closely to him, and held her fast while the slow bell sounded twelve times. She tried to be perfectly still, and not even sigh forth the gladness that was almost breaking her heart; but when the clock ceased, and the bells pealed out, she lifted her eyes to his face for a moment, and he stooped and kissed her.