Perhaps she was tired, for she sat quite still now, and showed
no wish to resume the conversation. The sound of the city
chimes died away; the little bell in the belfry close by kept
up its sharp monotone for a minute longer, and then it too was
hushed; the trees whispered and rustled, the grasshoppers
chirped shrilly all around, but a great stillness seemed to
fall upon the darkling earth as the grey evening came down,
and enfolded it in its soft mists. Grey fields stretched away
on either hand, grey clouds that had been rosy-red half an
hour ago, floated overhead; only the trees looked dark against
the tender grey sky, the encircling hills of Liege against the
lingering twilight glow.
The silent influence of the hour made itself felt on these two
also, perhaps, for neither of them spoke at first; indeed,
Graham's thoughts had wandered far beyond the horizon before
him, when he was aroused by the sound of a little sob, and
turning round, he saw that Madelon was crying.
"What is it, Madelon?" he said; "are you tired? What is the
matter?"
She did not answer at once, she was struggling with her tears;
at last out came the grief.
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