The crisis and climax of youth had been gone through--he never could be a boy again.
We came to that part of John's terrace which overhung the churchyard.
Both of us glanced instinctively down to the heap of loose red earth--the as yet nameless grave.

Some one stood beside it--the only one who was likely to be there.
Even had I not recognized her, John's manner would have told me who it was.

A deadly paleness overspread his face--its quietness was gone--every feature trembled.

It almost broke my heart to see how deeply this love had struck its roots down to the very core of his; twisting them with every fibre of his being.

A love which, though it had sprung up so early, and come to maturity so fast, might yet be the curse of his whole existence.