He turned his head slightly, his finger-tips joined together in the position habitual to him.
“Flora, my child, my dear daughter, will it be too much if I ask for ‘Lead, Kindly Light,’ as you have so often given it to us on long-ago Sundays when we have been all together—all together?”
For answer, she struck the opening chords very gently.
“Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
“Lead thou me on
“The night is dark, and I am far from home
“Lead thou me on ...
.... “Till, the night is gone
“And with the morn those Angel faces smile
“Which I have loved long since and lost awhile.”