She hesitated a moment while Linda remained motionless at her side, trembling still a little and watching the movements of a Peacock butterfly which was then sharing with the wasps their interest in the ancient honey-jar.
Mrs. Renshaw then repeated the following lines in a clear exquisitely modulated voice which went drifting away over the surrounding marshes.
“For even the purest delight may pall,
And power must fail and the pride must fall.
And the love of the dearest friends grow small,
But the glory of the Lord is all in all.”
Her voice sank. A slight gust of wind made the trees above them sigh softly as though the words of the kneeling woman were in harmony with the inarticulate heart of the earth.
Linda stopped trembling. A sweet indescribable calm began slowly to pervade her. Gently, like a child, she slipped her hand into her companion’s.
“Do you remember the Forty-third Psalm, Linda?” Mrs. Renshaw continued and her clear dramatic voice, with a power of feeling equal to that of any great actress, once more rose upon the air.
“Our heart is not turned back, neither have our steps declined from thy way.