echo of a once clear-sounding voice.
Indeed she had supposed it all laid away forever, done with, even as
the bright colours it had once so pleased her to wear were laid away in
high mahogany presses that lined one side of the lofty state-bedroom
up-stairs. But now remembrance laid violent hands on her, shaking both
mind and body from their calm. The passion of the bird's song, the
caressing suavity of the summer night, the knowledge, too, that so soon
another bride and bridegroom would dwell here at Brockhurst, worked
upon her strangely. She struggled with herself, surprised and half
angered by the force of her own emotion, and pleaded at once against,
and for, the satisfaction of the immense nostalgia which possessed her.

"Ah! it is bitter, very bitter, to have had at once so much and so
little. Bow my proud neck, O Lord, to Thy yoke. If my beloved had but
been spared to me I had never walked in darkness, far from the way of
faith, and my child had never suffered bodily disfigurement. Perfect
me, O God, even at the cost of further suffering. It is sad to be shut
away from the joys of my womanhood, while my life is still strong in
me. Break me, O Lord, even as the ploughshare breaks the reluctant
clod. Hold not Thy hand till the work be fully accomplished, and the
earth be ready for the sowing which makes for harvest. Give me back the
beloved of my youth, the beloved of my life, if only for an hour. Teach
me to submit. Show me, beyond all dread of contradiction that vows,
truly made, hold good even in that mysterious world beyond the grave.
Show me that though the body--dear home and vehicle of love--may die,
yet love in its essence remains everlastingly conscious, faithful and
complete. Bend my will to harmony with Thine, O Lord, and cleanse me of
self-seeking. Ah! but still let me see his face once again, once again,
oh, my God--and I will rebel no more. Let me look on him, once again,
if only for a moment, and I shall be content. Hear me, I am greatly
troubled, I am athirst--I faint----"

Katherine's prayer, which had risen into audible speech, sank away into
silence. The near nightingale had fallen silent also. But from across
the valley, chastened and etherealised by distance, still came the song
of the answering bird. To Katherine those fine and delicate notes were
full of promise. They bore testimony to the soul which dwells forever
behind the outward aspect and sense. Whether she fainted in good truth,
or whe