So the conversation proceeded, and by and by they all adjourned to the library, where a wood-fire lighted up the huge fireplace. Richard Lincoln seated himself in a deep arm-chair beside the hearth, and rather avoiding talk gazed at the sizzling logs. His own thoughts sufficed him. Maggie, whose seat was next to his, watched his expression, where a shade of sadness lingered when his attention was not engrossed by others. At a moment that Geoffrey and her father were out of the room she leaned forward and said: "Where is she buried?" "They sleep side by side," was the quiet response. "Their love to-day laughs alike at peasant and at noble. I try to think of it as a symbol of what is to be," he continued. "Theirs is the first alliance in that reconciliation between the few and the many on which the hopes of posterity depend."