There was a pause of some length. Flora was silenced, but her eyes had filled, and her face wore a pained and bitter expression. Meredith had glanced at her and thought it better not to speak. Maggie was in a depth of meditation. Fenton had gone scrambling down the rocks. Esther looked somewhat bored. "Have you got your book there, Meredith?" Mr. Murray asked. "Yes, sir." "Read us something more. And after that you may all bring your questions. We came here on purpose to talk, as I understood." "There are different sort of things here, sir. Shall I give you a change?" "What you will-- "'O day most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next world's bud-- Th' indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood; The couch of time; cares balm and bay; The week were dark but for thy light; Thy torch doth show the way.'" "That's better than anything I have got, sir," said Meredith. "No. But it is good. And just here and to-day the Sabbath seems dressed in royal robes. I could not but think of those lines." "I confess, Mr. Murray, Sunday is nothing like that to me," said Flora. "You are honest, Miss Flora. That gives me some hope of you. No, naturally the Sabbath does not seem like that to you yet.--Well, Meredith?" "Is there more of it, sir?" Meredith's sister asked. "More than you would care for, Miss Flora.-- "'Sundays the pillars are On which heav'n's palace archéd lies; The other days fill up the spare And hollow room with vanities.--'" "And yet that need not be true, either. Go on, Meredith. What will you give us?" "Two stories, sir, on the words, 'Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.'"