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In one of the silences, when the wood was very still and murmurous with humming insects, I heard a voice call. It was not a challenge of "Qui va la?" or "Garde a vous," but the voice of spring. It called "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" and mocked at war. A young officer with me was more interested in the voices of the guns.
I was glad at noon. It delighted me when my muscles ached with work and when, after supper, I could not keep my eyes open for sheer weariness. And sometimes I was awakened in the night out of a sound sleep seemingly by the very silences and lay in a sort of bodily comfort impossible to describe. I did not want to feel or to think: I merely wanted to live.
He was given to silences which in anybody but Anne would have been called morose. It was her fate to be associated with him in the hour and in the scene of his disgrace. And he was offered up unwittingly by Charlotte as a sacrifice to Anne's virtue. Like Branwell, Anne had no genius. She shows for ever gentle, and, in spite of an unconquerable courage, conquered.
This was plain enough since, on the morning after Japhet's question had been put, Lady Mildmay was discussing the position with Mrs. Baxter in the morning-room, while the Dean and Sir Winterton walked round and round the lawn in gloomy conversation punctuated by gloomier silences. What the actual history was Lady Mildmay's narrative showed pretty accurately.
If the outward physical change in her was due to her marital rupture people thought it was well that it had come in time, for she bloomed like a lovely exotic; and her silences and enthusiasms, and the fragrant freshness of her developing attitude toward the world first disconcerted, then amused, then touched those who had supposed themselves to be so long a buckler for her foibles and a shield for her caprice.
Secondarily, he made close acquaintance with phenomena which he had before known but darkly the seasons in their moods, morning and evening, night and noon, winds in their different tempers, trees, waters and mists, shades and silences, and the voices of inanimate things.
Once and again, long silences apart, a word or two would wing its way across lands and seas and tell us both that we were still under the same sky and were still what nature had made us from the beginning each other's.
A horizontal tangle of barbed wire lay before me, the shapeless gully of an empty trench, and, thirty-five feet away, another blue-gray tangle of barbed wire and a low ripple of the brownish earth. As I looked, one of the random silences of the front stole swiftly into the air. French trench and German trench were perfectly silent; you could have heard the ticking of a watch.
I remember how, in one of those silences, Norah, who sat facing me, leaned forward and addressed me. She said, "Mr. Furnival, you've come from Belgium, haven't you? Do tell me about it! I can't get a word out of Viola." I supposed they hadn't told Norah. They had spared the youngest. She was only seventeen.
Calm as thy sacred streams thy years shall flow; Groves which thy youth has known thine age shall know; Here, as of old, Hyblaean bees shall twine Their mazy murmur into dreams of thine, Still from the hedge's willow-bloom shall come Through summer silences a slumberous hum, Still from the crag shall lingering winds prolong The half-heard cadence of the woodman's song, While evermore the doves, thy love and care, Fill the tall elms with sighing in the air.
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