"I mean that part of us which cannot perish because it is part of God Himself. I mean that part of us whereby, in spite of this fleshly body, we may rise above fleshly desires and gain some perception of the Infinite Truth—which is God. Do you understand, Diana?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't," she answered wistfully, "but you won't lose patience wi' me, Peregrine?"
"Never, Diana. How could I when I don't understand myself. Who does? The wisest philosophers of all ages have been puzzling over their souls and never understood the wonder of it. Who shall describe the soul and its ultimate end?"
"Well," said she diffidently, "there's Jerry Jarvis—"
"What, the Tinker?" I exclaimed.
"Yes. He made a verse about the soul—I mean this one—
"'And when my time shall come to die
I care not where my flesh may lie
Because I know my soul shall fly
Back to the stars!'"
"Ah, yes, the stars!" said I, lifting my gaze to the spangled firmament above us. "This is a great thought—who knows?"
And presently as we went on together, hand in hand, came night very still and silent and full of a splendour of stars that made a soft twilight about us, very wonderful to behold.
"Now, why do that?" I demanded suddenly, for she had slipped her hand from mine.