‘Gleams from another world, too soon eclipsed or forfeited. It made me sad then. Do you hold to it now?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘I want to know what you would say now?’
‘Gleams from another world, brightening as it gets nearer.’
Amabel repeated—
Ever the richest, tenderest glow,
Sets round the autumnal sun;
But their sight fails, no heart may know
The bliss when life is done.
‘Old age,’ she added; ‘that seems very far off.’
‘Each day is a step,’ he answered, and then came a silence while both were thinking deeply.
They sat down to rest under a tree, the mountains before them with heavy dark clouds hanging on their sides, and the white crowns clear against the blue sky, a perfect stillness on all around, and the red glow of an Italian sunset just fading away.
‘There is only one thing wanting,’ said Amy. ‘You may sing now. You are far from Philip’s hearing. Suppose we chant this afternoon’s psalms.’