One Night
Never did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet corner in Soho, than one memorable evening when the Doctor and his daughter sat under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves.
Lucie was to be married tomorrow. She had reserved this last evening for her father, and they sat alone under the plane-tree.
“You are happy, my dear father?”
“Quite, my child.”