The dawn was just commencing a dim foreshadowing in the sky. The moon and stars were still shining.
Dred stood and looked up, and spoke, in a solemn voice.
"Seek him that maketh Arcturus and Orion—that turneth the shadow of death into morning! Behold those lights in the sky—the lights in his hands pierced for the sins of the world, and spread forth as on a cross! But the day shall come that he shall lay down the yoke, and he will bear the sin of the world no longer. Then shall come the great judgment. He will lay righteousness to the line and judgment to the plummet, and the hail shall sweep away the refuges of lies."
He stooped, and, lifting the body, laid him in the grave, and at this moment the wife broke into a loud lament.
"Hush, woman!" said Dred, raising his hand. "Weep ye not for the dead, neither bewail him; but weep ye sore for the living! He must rest till the rest of his brethren be killed; for the vision is sealed up for an appointed time. If it tarry, wait for it. It shall surely come, and shall not tarry!"
CHAPTER XXV. MORE SUMMER TALK.
A glorious morning, washed by the tears of last night's shower, rose like a bride upon Canema. The rain-drops sparkled and winked from leaf to leaf, or fell in showery diamonds in the breeze. The breath of numberless roses, now in full bloom, rose in clouds to the windows.