"Those words took my fancy, Lord Chandos," continued Leone; "they are so true, so terribly true. All grace and beauty will be hidden away some day in a shroud."
"There will be no shroud for the soul," he said.
She rose from her seat and looked round with a weary sigh.
"That is true. After all, nothing matters, death ends everything; nothing matters except being good and going to heaven."
He smiled half sadly at her.
"Those are grave thoughts for the most brilliant beauty, the most gifted singer, the most popular queen of the day," he said.
"The brilliant beauty will be a mere handful of dust and ashes some day," she said.
Then Lord Chandos rose from his seat with a shudder.
"Let us go out into the sunlight," he said; "the shade under the old cedar makes you dull. How you have changed! I can remember when you never had a dull thought."
"I can remember when I had no cause for dull thoughts," she answered. Then, fancying that the words implied some little reproach to him, she continued, hastily: "My soul has grown larger, and the larger one's soul the more one suffers. I have understood more of human nature since I have tried to represent the woes of others."