I reached for Mitchell’s hand, feeling the sudden urge for connection. He took it, so we stood that way, hands clasped, silent in the presence of true love. It was in the way of great classic symphonies—simple and unadorned yet underscored with a deep and subtle timelessness.

A distant noise tugged me from the moment, reminding me of where we were. Of the circumstances. I glanced up at the doctor. “You’re not afraid of being caught?”

“Thornhill has made a sudden disappearance for the night. I’ve a feeling it has to do with Harford’s presence here. But it’s nearing midnight, and rounds will begin soon.” He cleared his throat, pulling his hand from mine as he nodded toward the couple. “I should return them. It’s best if no one notices.”

When they had gone, I stood alone in that moonlit room and felt the sweeping romance of everything that had occurred at the beautiful pianoforte that night, all that room had witnessed. It still pulsed with sweetness I couldn’t express. Not even in music. I remained until the candle stubs I’d brought melted down to nothing and flickered out, leaving me in the dark. My heart was too full to be afraid, though.

When I at last made my way back into the priest’s tunnel, I went in eerie darkness, and the chill of the place wrapped tightly around me. I jumped at every noise. Every brush of cobwebs on my skin. The usual fear returned, clinging and tight. Choking.

But then there was someone else. Another body moving toward me, shuffling in the shadows. I paused, hand to my throat. One beat, two . . . Then great arms came gently around me, drawing me close, fingertips grazing my face. “Vivienne . . . Vivienne.”

I was breathless. “Dr. Turner.”

“Mitchell. And I have something for you.” He was close enough to feel the words rumbling in his chest.

A collection of smooth, waxy pillars was shoved into my left hand. I ran my fingertips along the length of them and felt wicks at the end. “Candles.”

“So you never have to face the darkness.” He took my right hand and wrapped my fingers around what felt like matches.

I swallowed the lump that rose. “Why? You’ve already—”

“To thank you. To bless you as you have me, especially tonight.”

“What on earth did I ever give to you?”

“Hope.” He breathed out the word and I felt the layers of meaning. “Hope for some purpose in my life here.”

“Oh.” It came out more a breath than a word.

“It’s quite silly to you, isn’t it?” He spoke quickly now, stumbling over words that came directly from some deeply authentic place within. “Silly that I care so about Violet and Anna, all the patients. I realize I’m far too attached to this place, to the people. Thornhill has always said it’s my weakness, allowing them to affect me so.”