"Yes," said Thomasina, "I can understand that."
"You ought to be with Richard as much as you can," said Mrs. Lister. "In another month he will have gone back to New York."
Thomasina smiled. Across from the chapel drifted the sound of music. Richard had spent a day inside the old organ and had coaxed and wheedled it into a new sound. He was now on the organ bench with Eleanor beside him. For Richard at his happiest moments there was still a favorite form of expression, the chants of his boyhood. With full organ he sang the Ambrosian Hymn. The Gregorian music, the summer evening, Richard's voice—Thomasina was never to forget them.
"We believe that Thou shalt come to be our Judge:
We therefore pray Thee, help Thy servants: whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy precious blood.
Make them to be numbered with Thy saints: in glory ever-lasting....
O Lord, have mercy upon us: have mercy upon us.
O Lord, let Thy mercy be upon us: as our trust is in Thee."
Then Richard established a deep and majestic foundation for his clear tenor:
"O Lord, in Thee have I trusted: let me never be confounded!"