The House of Souls
about him at the unhandsome spectacle of suburban London keeping Sunday.
There was something in the tinge of antiquity which still exists in Acton that soothed his mind and drew it away from those unpleasant contemplations, and when at last he had penetrated rampart after rampart of brick, and heard no more the harsh shrieks and laughter of the people who were enjoying themselves, he found a way into a little sheltered field, and sat down in peace beneath a tree, whence he could look out on a pleasant valley. The sun sank down beneath the hills, the clouds changed into the likeness of blossoming rose-gardens; and he still sat there in the gathering darkness till a cool breeze blew upon him, and he rose with a sigh, and turned back to the brick ramparts and the glimmering streets, and the noisy idlers sauntering to and fro in the procession of their dismal festival. But he was murmuring to himself some words that seemed a magic song, and it was with uplifted heart that he let himself into his house.
Mrs. Nixon had gone an hour and a half before his return, Mary told him. Darnell sighed with relief, and he and his wife strolled out into the garden and sat down side by side.
They kept silence for a time, and at last Mary spoke, not without a nervous tremor in her voice.
'I must tell you, Edward,' she began, 'that aunt has made a proposal which you ought to hear. I think we should consider it.'
'A proposal? But how about the whole affair? Is it still going on?'
'Oh, yes! She told me all about it. Uncle is quite
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