It might be Rachel's voice. He left the shadow and
stepped into the radius of the light, and then heard a sentence spoken
quite distinctly.
"And there we lived from the year 1860 to 1895, the happiest years of
my parents' lives, and there in 1862 my brother Maurice was born, to the
delight of his parents, as he was destined to be the delight of all who
knew him."
The voice quickened, and the tone became conclusive rising slightly in
pitch, as if these words were at the end of the chapter. Hewet drew
back again into the shadow. There was a long silence. He could just
hear chairs being moved inside. He had almost decided to go back, when
suddenly two figures appeared at the window, not six feet from him.
"It was Maurice Fielding, of course, that your mother was engaged to,"
said Helen's voice. She spoke reflectively, looking out into the dark
garden, and thinking evidently as much of the look of the night as of
what she was saying.
"Mother?" said Rachel. Hewet's heart leapt, and he noticed the fact. Her
voice, though low, was full of surprise.
"You didn't know that?" said Helen.
"I never knew there'd been any one else," said Rachel. She was clearly
surprised, but all they said was said low and inexpressively, because
they were speaking out into the cool dark night.
"More people were in love with her than with any one I've ever known,"
Helen stated.
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