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On they come through the quiet country fields, hot and dusty with their long march, the foremost priest holding his head high, and doing his routine work manfully never wearying of repeating the same words, or of opening and shutting the dark-bound volume in his hand; and the children, not yet quite weary of singing, and of swinging incense-burners keeping close together two and two in line; the people following being less regular, less apparently enthusiastic, but walking close together in a long winding stream up the hill.
Wherefore dost thou bid me look At you dark-bound journal book? There the register appears Of the lapse of twenty years. Thou hast been a happy bride, Kneeling by a lover's side; And unclouded was thy life, As his loved and loving wife; Thou hast worn the garb of gloom, Kneeling by that husband's tomb; Thou hast wept a widow's tears In the lapse of twenty years. Oh!
Was it a marvel that waking or sleeping he saw only that house, and that room, and that casket chained to the wall; that he saw at one time the four steps rising to the door, and the placid front with its three tiers of windows; at another time, the room itself with its litter of scripts and dark-bound books, and rich furnishings, and phials and jars and strangely shaped alembics?
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