"The friendship of a mere girl is worth nothing to a grown, busy man, who is fighting big problems and aiming at great conquests. If I could only help you that would be just fine. But it is of no use hankering after impossible things, is it? So I am going to read to you."
"What are you going to read?"
"A piece called 'Snow Bound.' Now listen," and for half-an-hour he did not speak. Her voice rose and fell in musical cadence. He closed his eyes so that he might catch all the melody of her voice. The lines she read did not interest him at first. All his interest was in the sweet-eyed reader.
But he grew interested after awhile, and was touched unconsciously by the beautiful faith and tender humanity that flashed out here and there.
When she reached the end he opened his eyes and looked at her, her lips were still apart, her eyes aglow with emotion. She was no longer the bright, merry irresponsible girl. She seemed to have changed suddenly into a strong, great-souled woman.
"Would you mind reading a few stanzas over again?" he questioned, after a pause.
"With pleasure."
"Beginning, 'O time and change.'"
"Yes, I know," and she opened the book again. He listened with intense eagerness. She dropped her voice a little when she came to the words:
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress trees!
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play!
Who hath not learned in hours of faith
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever Lord of death,
And Love can never lose its own!