George and Susan cried together, and then they wiped one another’s eyes like simple country folk with one pocket-handkerchief; and then they kissed one another in turn, and made each other’s tears flow fast again; and again wiped one another’s eyes with one handkerchief.

Meadows griped the palings convulsively—­hell was in his heart.

“Poor souls, God help them!” said William to himself in his purified heart.

The silence their sorrow caused all around was suddenly invaded by a voice that seemed to come from another world—­it was Grandfather Fielding.  “The autumn sun is not so warm as she used to be!”

Yes, there was the whole map of humanity on that little spot in the county of Berks.  The middle-aged man, a schemer, watching the success of his able scheme, and stunned and wounded by its recoil.  And old age, callous to noble pain, all alive to discomfort, yet man to the last—­blaming any one but Number One, cackling against heavenly bodies, accusing the sun and the kitchen fire of frigidity—­not his own empty veins!  And the two poor young things sobbing as if their hearts would break over their first great earthly sorrow.

George was the first to recover himself.

“Shame upon me!” he cried; he drew Susan to his bosom, and pressed a long, burning kiss upon her brow.

And now all felt the wrench was coming.  George, with a wild, half-terrified look, signaled William to come to him.

“Help me, Will! you see I have no more manhood than a girl.”

Susan instinctively trembled.  George once more pressed his lips to her, as if they would grow there.  William took her hand.  She trembled more and more.

“Take my hand; take your brother’s hand, my poor lass,” said he.

She trembled violently; and then George gave a cry that seemed to tear his heart, and darted from them in a moment.

Poor Susan uttered more than one despairing scream, and stretched out both her hands for George.  He did not see her, for he dared not look back.

“Bob, loose the dog,” muttered William hastily, in a broken voice.

The dog was loosed, and ran after George, who, he thought, was only going for a walk.  Susan was sinking pale and helpless upon her brother’s bosom.

“Pray, sister,” said gentle William; “pray, sister, as I must.”

A faint shiver was all the answer; her senses had almost left her.

When George was a little way up the hill, something ran suddenly against his legs——­he started—­it was Carlo.  He turned and lifted up his hands to Heaven; and William could see that George was blessing him for this.  Carlo was more than a dog to poor George at that cruel moment.  Soon after that, George and Carlo reached the crown of the hill.  George’s figure stood alone a moment between them and the sky.  He was seen to take his hat off, and raise his hands once more to Heaven, while he looked down upon all he loved and left; and then he turned his sorrowful face again toward that distant land—­and they saw him no more!