We
stopped, and leaned on the wooden rail. The moon was now behind
us, and shone full upon the long vista of basins and on the huge
walls and towers of the Castle above.
"How proud you ought to be of such a grand old place!" said
Margaret, softly.
"It is yours now, darling," I answered. "You have as good a right
to love it as I--but I only love it because you are to live in it,
dear."
Her hand stole out and lay on mine, and we were both silent. Just
then the clock began to strike far off in the tower. I counted--
eight--nine--ten--eleven--I looked at my watch--twelve--thirteen--I
laughed. The bell went on striking.
"The old clock has gone crazy, like Judith," I exclaimed. Still it
went on, note after note ringing out monotonously through the still
air. We leaned over the rail, instinctively looking in the
direction whence the sound came. On and on it went. I counted
nearly a hundred, out of sheer curiosity, for I understood that
something had broken and that the thing was running itself down.
Suddenly there was a crack as of breaking wood, a cry and a heavy
splash, and I was alone, clinging to the broken end of the rail of
the rustic bridge.
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