When he had been settled and made comfortable, they read the service; and she thought her husband's tones had never been so sweet as now, modulated to the pitch best suited to the sickroom, and with the peculiarly beautiful expression he always gave such reading. It was the lesson from Jeremiah, on the different destiny of Josiah and his sons, and he read that verse, 'Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him, but weep sore for him that goeth away; for he shall return no more, nor see his native country;' with so remarkable a melancholy and beauty in his voice, that she could hardly refrain from tears, and it also greatly struck Philip, who had been so near 'returning no more, neither seeing his native country.'
When the reading was over, and they were leaving him to rest, while they went to dinner, he said, as he wished Amy good-bye, 'Till now I never discovered the practical advantage of such a voice as Guy's. There never was such a one for a sick-room. Last week, I could not bear any one else to speak at all; and even now, no one else could have read so that I could like it.'
'Your voice; yes,' said Amy, after they had returned to their own sitting-room. 'I want to hear it very much. I wonder when you will sing to me again.'
'Not till he has recovered strength to bear the infliction with firmness,' said Guy; 'but, Amy, I'll tell you what we will do, if you are sure it is good for you. He will have a good long sleep, and we will have a walk on the green hillocks.'
Accordingly they wandered in the cool of the evening on the grassy slopes under the chestnut-trees, making it a Sunday walk, calm, bright and meditative, without many words, but those deep and grave, 'such as their walks had been before they were married,' as Amabel said.
'Better,' he answered.
A silence, broken by her asking, 'Do you recollect your melancholy definition of happiness, years ago?'
'What was it?'
'Gleams from another world, too soon eclipsed or forfeited. It made me sad then. Do you hold to it now?'
'Don't you?'
'I want to know what you would say now?'
'Gleams from another world, brightening as it gets nearer.'
Amabel repeated-Ever the richest, tenderest glow, Sets round the autumnal sun; But their sight fails, no heart may know The bliss when life is done.
'Old age,' she added; 'that seems very far off.'