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On the one side of the street, a cloister of Virgins: on the other a stye of courtezans, with public toleration. This day all in masks, with all looseness and foolery: to morrow all in processions, whipping themselves till the blood follow. On one door an excommunication throwing to Hell all transgressours: on another a Jubilee, or full discharge from all transgressions.
And so the old gentlewoman, whose lifework was so nearly finished, and the man in the flush of his manhood years, whose life had been so nearly wrecked, were drawn very close by a something that came to them out of the beauty and the mystery of that hour. The next day, Brian told Auntie Sue that he would leave on the morrow. "Leave?" she echoed in dismay. "Why, Brian, where are you going?"
We arrived at Wutzler's Royal Hotel in the late afternoon, and felt gladdened by the comfort and good cheer that awaited us, a hopeful sign inasmuch as the morrow was Christmas Day. A drive to Wingfield Park and a visit to an exquisite tomb mosque ended the sight-seeing day.
The morrow was "a dreadful day of bitter suspense." But it brought its own consolation. Again therefore the psalms could be read, and those for the day "appeared written for the occasion." They had taken a brighter tone: Thou shalt show me the path of life! Two days later the Hauhau leader, Patara, arrived and held a trial in the church. The charges were all of a political character.
The many bad were openly blaspheming, throwing off in despair all faith, all bonds of religion, all common decency, and crying, Let us eat and drink, for to- morrow we die. Salvian answers them like an old Hebrew prophet: 'The Lord's arm is not shortened. The Lord's eyes are not closed. The Lord is still as near as ever.
"Knowest thou of the Rock of the Fighting Man?" "Yea," she said. "And of the Sage that dwelleth in this same wood?" "Most surely," she said, "and to-morrow evening or the morrow after we shall find him; for I have been taught the way to his dwelling; and I wot that he is now called the Sage of Swevenham.
It had been a busy day and Marsh had many half-formed plans for the morrow. Sunday morning was gray and dark, with low-hanging clouds and a frosty snap in the air that gave the city its first touch of real autumn weather. Returning from breakfast, Marsh lit the gas logs in his fireplace and sat down before their cheery blaze to smoke and think.
He had pulled home that Sunday night, to brood alone over a half-dead fire; and, brooding there, had surmised what the morrow made certain that she had taken with her yet more than she had even brought; that even what colour, what small interest, had formerly cheered the daily round on Garrison Hill and made it tolerable, was now gone out of it forever.
Miss Charteris slept calmly, too, but her dreams were different from Ronald's. She thought of the time when she would be mistress of that fair domain, and the wife of its brave young lord. She loved him well. No one had ever pleased her as he had no one would ever charm her again. Valentine had made the grand mistake of her life. The morrow so eagerly looked for was a fair, bright day.
As the twilight crept up the battle sank in all parts of the peninsula. McClellan, who had lost those two most precious days, and who had finally failed to make use of all his numbers at the same time, now, great in preparation, as usual, made ready for the emergency of the morrow. All the powerful and improved artillery which McClellan had in such abundance was brought up.
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