The Bhootan verger took them to a lofty crest from which they could look down the vista of the valley, and before them the nave of the Cathedral. Verdant hills lifted their heads on either side, making a sky-line as lofty as many in the Alps; yet here they were merely spurs of the mighty range beyond.
A pause. Adele stood gazing through the Nave; and there was the congregation, a world-full, at her feet.
Some one suggested to Paul that he ask her to sing. The request seemed injudicious just then and there, but some people have no sixth sense. Paul drew up his pony near hers while she was still absorbed in the prospect. It certainly was inopportune, but he ventured:
“If my voice would carry, I should try to sing. How do you feel about it, Adele?”
She shook her head.
“No? you don’t feel like singing! That’s not like you!”
“I like it too much, that’s why.”
“Oh, is that it?”
“Not here—I could not.”
“Where?”