"And what about your voice?" she said, playfully. "Your wonderful voice, that was going to make your fortune?" "Ah, that is a dream of the past," he said, half sadly. "I will settle down into a regular country squire, Una, and the only use I'll make of my voice will be to sing Lady Bell to you." Then, putting his arm round her, he sang the last verse of the quaint old ballad: "My Lady Bell, in gold brocade, Looked not so fair and sweet a maid, As when, in linsey woollen gown, She left for love the noisy town." His voice sounded rich and full in the mellow twilight, while the minstrel below stopped playing, as he heard the song floating through the shadowy air. The sun had sunk into the sea, and the stars were shining brilliantly. One long bar of vivid light stretched along the verge of the horizon, and the air was full of shadows and the perfume of unseen flowers. "See!" said Reginald, pointing towards the band of light, "it is like the dawn." "Yes!--the dawn of a new life for you and for me, dear," she whispered; and then they wandered along the terrace, through the shadows, with the hoarse murmur of the distant sea in their ears, but in their hearts the new-born feelings of joy and contentment. THE END. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man with a Secret, by Fergus Hume