Page:The story of Saville - told in numbers.djvu/16

 The city’s din was heard no more, and all the world was fair, For he thought that mayhap in a purer air a Gilead-grace might be, And God might somehow permit him to breathe the beauty he could not see. When he had forced his hesitant feet to traverse a mile or so Of street that merged in a country road, its ruts all softened with snow, They came to a widely sloping space and lofty ancestral trees That bowed in a stately welcome under a gentle breeze, And the lad pushed open a high arched gate and boldly leading him through Guided the man to a rustic bench screened by a sturdy yew. “Leave me here for an hour,” said Kyrle, and when he was quite alone Sat in a hopeless silence with a face like a carven stone, Though once he smiled at a thought, and the smile more pitiful was than a groan, For scarce was it matter for mirth, how his mind would circling rehearse 12