Again there was a silence. There was no sound but the rippling of the water, and the humming of insects. Occasionally a dragon-fly darted across the surface of the stream with a flash of silver wings. Beyond the grassy slope of the fields opposite them stood the trees of the wood, dark green, deep shadows lying beneath them.
And in the silence Elizabeth waited.
Presently David began to speak, shyly, difficultly.
“When I was a very little chap, I used to read Tennyson. Do you know the bit,
“‘... I heard a sound
As of a silver horn from o’er the hills...’?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“‘... O never harp nor horn,
Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand.
Was like that music as it came; and then