No, it is not the lilies either. If it were anyone else, I should be ashamed to say what I think.
She draws him down and speaks mysteriously.
It is not real flowers at all!
Song rises outside—faint and distant.
Michaelis.
What is it to you?
Mrs. Beeler.
It is like—it is like some kindness in the air, some new-born happiness—or a new hope rising. Now you will think I am—not quite right in my mind, as Mat does, and Martha!
Michaelis.
Mrs. Beeler, there is such a perfume about us this beautiful Easter morning. You perceive it, with senses which suffering and a pure soul have made fine beyond the measure of woman. There is a kindness in the air, new-born happiness, and new-risen hope.