He crept a little closer; he crumpled the leaves together so as to stop their rustling about his ears.

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.