The Burning Secret

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  Were they animals, or people, or was it merely the ghostly hand of the wind that wove together
  all this rustling and crackling and whirring? He listened. It was the wind gently moving the tree
  tops. No, it wasn't, it was people—now he could see distinctly—couples arm in arm, who came
  up from the lighted city to enliven the darkness with their perplexing presence. What were they
  after? He could not make out. They were not talking to each other, because he heard no voices.
  All he could catch was the sound of their tread on the gravel and here and there the sight of their
  figures moving like shadows past some clear space between the trees, always with their arms
  round each other, like his mother and the baron in the moonlight.