"Not struggle with them?" said Elizabeth. "Sit down quietly with them!"
"Yes," he said gravely. "Not at first, but at last."
"I don't believe in it," said Elizabeth. "That is, I don't believe in it as a general thing. It may be possible for her. I am sure it never could be for me."
Winthrop was silent, and they walked so for the space of half a block.
"Would she say that it is possible for everybody?" inquired
Elizabeth then.
"I believe she would say that it is not temperament, nor circumstance, nor stoical philosophy."
"What then?"
"A drop of some pacifying oil out of a heaven-wrought chalice."
"I don't think figures are the easiest mode of getting at things, Mr. Landholm. You don't make this clear."
He smiled a little, as he pushed open the little wicket gate of the Green, and without saying anything more they sauntered in, along the broad gravel walk sweeping round the enclosure; slowly, till they had passed the fortifications and stood looking upon the bay over towards Blue Point. The sun was almost on the low ruddied horizon; a stirring north breeze came down from the up country, roughening the bay, and the sunbeams leapt across from the opposite western shore giving a touch of light to every wave. The air was very fine; the sky without a cloud, except some waiting flecks of vapour around the sun. The two friends stood still some little time, to look or to think; looking especially at the fair glowing western heaven, and the tossing water between, every roll of which was with a dance and a sparkle.