“Give me the cup; hand it me with thine own hand. So:—Isabel, my heart and soul are now full of deepest reverence; yet I do dare to call this the real sacrament of the supper.—Eat with me.”
They eat together without a single word; and without a single word, Pierre rose, and kissed her pure and spotless brow, and without a single word departed from the place.
VII.
WE know not Pierre Glendinning’s thoughts as he gained the village and passed on beneath its often shrouding trees, and saw no light from man, and heard no sound from man, but only, by intervals, saw at his feet the soft ground-lightnings, snake-like, playing in and out among the blades of grass; and between the trees, caught the far dim light from heaven, and heard the far wide general hum of the sleeping but still breathing earth.
He paused before a detached and pleasant house, with much shrubbery about it. He mounted the portico and knocked distinctly there, just as the village clock struck one. He knocked, but no answer came. He knocked again, and soon he heard a sash thrown up in the second story, and an astonished voice inquired who was there?
“It is Pierre Glendinning, and he desires an instant interview with the Reverend Mr. Falsgrave.”
“Do I hear right?—in heaven’s name, what is the matter, young gentleman?”
“Every thing is the matter; the whole world is the matter. Will you admit me, sir?”
“Certainly—but I beseech thee—nay, stay, I will admit thee.”