Jack laughed too; at other times he would have thought the old angler an extremely impertinent person. Now he only laughed.
Then he turned the boat's head, and rowed his bride swiftly homewards.
"Phil, I am like Jason bringing home Medea," he said, with a faint reminiscence of classical tradition. I have explained that Jack was not clever.
"I hope not," said Phil; "Medea was a dreadful person."
"Then Paris bringing home Helen—No, Phil; only your lover bringing home the sweetest girl that ever was. And worth five and thirty Helens."
When they landed, Agatha L'Estrange was on the lawn waiting for them. To her surprise, Phillis, on disembarking, took Jack by the arm, and his hand closed over hers. Mrs. L'Estrange gasped. And in Phillis's tear-bright eyes, she saw at last the light and glow of love; and in Phillis's blushing face she saw the happy pride of the celestial Venus who has met her only love.
"Children—children!" she said, "what is this?"
Phillis made answer, in words which Abraham Dyson used to read to her from a certain Book, but which she never understood till now—made answer with her face upturned to her lover—
"I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me."
They were a quiet party that evening. Jack did not want to talk. He asked Phillis to sing; he sat by in a sort of rapture while her voice, in the songs she most affected, whispered and sang to his soul not words, but suggestions of every innocent delight. She recovered something of her gaiety, but their usual laughter was hushed as if by some unexpressed thought. It will never come back to her again, that old mirth and light heart of childhood. She felt while she played as if she was in some great cathedral; the fancies of her brain built over her head a pile more mystic and wonderful than any she had seen. Its arches towered to the sky; its aisles led far away into dim space. She was walking slowly up the church hand-in-hand with Jack, towards a great rose light in the east. An anthem of praise and thanksgiving echoed along the corridors, and pealed like thunder among the million rafters of the roof. Round them floated faces which looked and smiled. And she heard the voice of Abraham Dyson in her ear—