assertion, now meek and helpless, requiring to
be lifted, and propped up with pillows, and depending entirely and
thankfully upon Guy.

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 whe