“He that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit in the center and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun;
Himself is his own dungeon.”
She thanked me with a fine smile.
Clytia had come in a few moments before, but her entrance had been such that it had caused no disturbing vibrations in the current of sympathetic understanding upon which Ariadne and myself were launched.
Now, however, we came ashore as it were, and she greeted us as returned voyagers love to be greeted, with cordial welcome.
She informed us that dinner was ready, and I was alarmed lest we might have delayed that important function.
The children had disappeared for the day, having already had their dinner in the nursery under the supervision of their mother.