‘Somehow,’ said Gerald, after a pause, ‘this always seems to me such a sad view.’
‘Nonsense!’ answered Harry; ‘that’s only because you are in a sad frame of mind just now.’
‘I think,’ said Gerald, not taking notice of his objection, ‘it’s because it’s all so level—so unbroken; there is no hill and dale, and there are no houses after you get clear of St. Anselm’s.... It’s very beautiful.’
Harry Venniker replied, ‘I rather wish now I had come here oftener. I knew it was fine, but I didn’t think much about it. I suppose you have been here very often, Gerald.’
‘Nearly every Sunday, I think,’ said Gerald.
His companion was going to make some remark, when he checked himself and said, ‘There’s the bell. We must go back to the house. Let’s go by the road.’
The two boys walked quickly down the footpath which runs at right angles into the road. They had then a part of the hill to climb. It was the same way as they had walked together on the first day of their life at St. Anselm’s. They had been silent then, and they were silent now. When they reached the turning of the road where Mr. Brandiston’s house came in sight, jutting out a little into the road just beyond the chapel, Gerald said:
‘Do you remember the first time we came here?’
‘You mean the day we came to St. Anselm’s?’ said Harry.
‘Yes,’ was the reply. ‘We have learnt a good many things since then.’