"After God and Shakespeare, what was left for any man to write?" the general had once demanded of the judge.
Now he asked the question of Eugenia, and she smiled and was silent. Her eyes passed from the porch to the lawn and the walk and the immemorial gloom of the great cedars. Sunshine lay over all the warm, sleepy land, and sunshine lay across her white dress and across the senile droop of the general's mouth.
"For He maketh sore, and bindeth up," read the girl slowly. "He woundeth and His hands make whole."
"He shall deliver thee in six troubles;—yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee."
"In famine He shall redeem thee from death: and in war from the power of the sword."
She stopped suddenly and looked up, for the general's eyes were full of tears.