Maryllia listened, watching them. The declining sunlight, pale as it was, shed luminance upon the awkward stumpy boys, and bashfully shrinking girls, as with round, affectionate eyes fixed upon her, they went on tunefully-"The Lord is my Shepherd; He feedeth me, In the depth of a desert land, And, lest I should in the darkness slip, He holdeth me by the hand.
"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want, My mind on Him is stayed, And though through the Valley of Death I walk, I shall not be afraid!"
Here, something like a sob interrupted the melody. Some one in the little choir broke down,--but Cicely covered the break with a tender chord, and the young voices rose above it.
"The Lord is my Shepherd; O Shepherd sweet, Leave me not here to stray, But guide me safe to Thy heavenly fold, And keep me there, I pray!"
With each verse, the harmony grew sweeter and more solemn, till Maryllia, lying back on her pillows with closed eyes through which the tears would creep despite herself, began to feel earth very far away and heaven very near. At the 'Amen,' she said: "Thank you! That was beautiful! Do you mind singing the third verse over again?"
They obeyed, looking at Cicely for the lead.
"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want; My mind on Him is stayed, And though through the Valley of Death I walk, I shall not be afraid!"
There was a silence.
"Now," breathed Cicely softly--"now the Amen!"
Full and grave came the solemn chord and the young fresh voices with it,-"A--men!" And then Cicely went up to Maryllia and bent over her.
"Are you pleased, dearest?"
She was very quiet. There were tears in her eyes, but at the question, she smiled.
"Very pleased! And very happy! Take the children away now and give them tea. And thank them all for me,--say I will see them again some day when I am stronger--when I do not feel inclined to cry quite so easily!"
In a few minutes all the little scuffling shuffling feet had made their way out of the room, and Maryllia was left to herself in the deepening twilight,--a twilight illumined brightly every now and again by the leaping flame of a sparkling log fire. Suddenly the door which had just been closed after the children, gently opened again, and Cicely entering, said in rather a tremulous voice-"Mr. Walden is here, Maryllia."