The Memoir of Horace Anzley

Mrs. Slade's jealousy suddenly leaped up again at the sight. All these years, the woman had been living on that letter. Now she must have loved him to treasure the mere memory of its ashes. The clear heaven overhead was empty to all its gold. Dusks spread over abruptly darkening the seven hills. Here and there, lights began to twinkle through the foliage at their feet.