Silence fell after this, and some of the party noticed how the sky and clouds were changing. The sun had sunk below the actual horizon now; long since he had dipped behind Eagle Hill; and the gold and the purple were fading from the racks of vapour which had caught and given the colours so brilliantly. Pale purple, pale fawn, ashes of roses, then soft greys succeeded one another. The eastern hills had lost their light; the shadows were gone, night was softly letting her mantle fall on the world. Still the little party sat on the rock, and looked, and felt the soft breath of the air, and watched the fading glory. Nobody wanted to move, and twilight would last long enough to let them get home; and so they waited. Fenton, I suppose, had gone home, for they heard the rustle of his footsteps no longer. By and by, as they watched the grey strips of vapour which had been so brilliant a little while ago, they began to change again. The greys took on a purplish warm hue, which brightened and brightened, and then pure carmine began to touch the soft under folds and edges of the clouds, increasing in vividness, until over all the sky every speck and mass of vapour was glowing in brilliant crimson. For a few minutes this; and then it too faded, and rapidly the crimson sank to purple and the purple back to grey, and all knew that the reign of night and shades would be broken no more till the sun rising. Slowly the little party got up from the rock; unwillingly they turned their backs upon it; lingeringly they left the place which had been so pleasant, and took their way down the hill through the gathering dusk. The walk was still very pretty; Maggie held her uncle's hand, the others clustered round, and they went running and skipping till the level land was reached, then slowly again, as if loath to have the evening quite come to an end. It was pleasure of another sort to gather round the tea-table, bright with lights and covered with good things. "I do not think," Meredith observed, "that I ever enjoyed more in one day." "Lucky for you!" said Fenton. "I don't see the use of having Sundays, for my part." "How can you help having them?" said Maggie. "They must come, just like Saturdays, or Mondays." "That's deep!" said Fenton. "But if they must come, as you have originally discovered, why can't one use them reasonably." "As how?" said Mr. Murray, preventing an eager outbreak of Maggie's. "Like other days. Why shouldn't I fish, for instance? or shoot partridges? The fish don't know the difference. Why should one mope on one particular day?" "I never do," said his uncle. "I am sorry you have such a bad taste." "As what, sir?" (fiercely). "As to mope." "How's a fellow to do anything else?" "Depends on himself." "Well, what's the use of my not fishing? Why shouldn't I fish on Sunday?" "Don't you know?"