He had put into her memory a wondrous secret word. She had heard
His voice, and it could never again leave her heart;
And who could murmur or misdoubt,
When God's great sunshine finds them out?
* * * * *
SEQUENCES
There are few episodes in life which break off finally. Life is now so
variable, travel so easy, there are no continuing cities and no lasting
interests, and we ask ourselves involuntarily, "What will the sequence
be?" When I left Yorkshire, I was too young and too ignorant of the
ever-changing film of daily existence to think or to care much about
sequences; and the Hattons were a family of the soil; they appeared to
be as much a part of it as the mountains and elms, the blue bells and
the heather. I never expected to see them again and the absence of this
expectation made me neither sorry nor glad.
One day, however, a quarter of a century after the apparent close of my
story, I was in St. Andrews, the sacred, solemn-looking old city that is
the essence of all the antiquity of Scotland.
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