"If I had to die," she said, half to herself, "I would choose to die on such a day as this."
He raised his dark eyes and looked at her.
"Why?"
"I scarcely know," she said hesitatingly. "And yet, in my own mind, I do. It is so beautiful! It seems to give one a sense of peace and hope—I cannot explain it. It is the sort of thing one feels, and feels only."
He looked down again.
"I know what you mean. You would fear annihilation less?"
"Annihilation! Is that your creed?"
"Sometimes, if it were not for scenes like this, I might believe it possible," he answered slowly. "As it is, I do not! The exquisite beauty of the earth denies it! I pin my faith to a great analogy. The natural world is a reflex of the spiritual, and in the natural world there is no annihilation. Nothing can ever die. Nor can our souls ever die."
She looked at him keenly. The dreamy speculation had gone from her eyes. The fire of her former purpose had returned.
"It is well to feel like that. You would rather be Sir Geoffrey Kynaston, then, than his murderer, even now?"