"I am glad you like it, Jane," he said, "because I must plead guilty to the fact that it is my own. You see, I knew no music for it; the Anthem-book gave the words only. And on that awful night, when little Rosemary had mercilessly rubbed it in, about 'the lady portrayed'; and what her love MUST have been, and WOULD have been, and COULD have been; and had made me SEE 'The Wife' again, and 'The--' the other picture; I felt so bruised, and sore, and lonely. And then those words came to my mind: 'Lead us, O Christ, when all is gone, safe home at last.' All seemed gone indeed; and there seemed no home to hope for, in this world." He raised himself a little, and then leaned back again; so that his head rested against her bosom. "Safe home at last," he said, and stayed quite still for a moment, in utter content. Then remembered what he was telling her, and went on eagerly. "So those words came back to me; and to get away from despairing thoughts, I began reciting them, to an accompaniment of chords." "'The radiant morn hath passed away, And spent too soon her golden store; The shadows of departing day--'" "And then--suddenly, Jane--I SAW it, pictured in sound! Just as I used to SEE a sunset, in light and shadow, and then transfer it to my canvas in shade and colour,-so I heard a SUNSET in harmony, and I felt the same kind of tingle in my fingers as I used to feel when inspiration came, and I could catch up my brushes and palette. So I played the sunset. And then I got the theme for life fading, and what one feels when the glorious noon is suddenly plunged into darkness; and then the prayer. And then, I HEARD a vision of heaven, where evening shadows never fall: And after that came the end; just certainty, and worship, and peace. You see the eventual theme, worked out of all this. It was like making studies for a picture. That was why you heard it over and over. I wasn't trying to remember. I was gathering it into final form. I am awfully glad you like it, Jane; because if I show you how the harmonies go, perhaps you could write it down. And it would mean such a lot to me, if you thought it worth singing. I could play the accompaniment--Hullo! Is it beginning to rain? I felt a drop on my cheek, and another on my hand." No answer. Then he felt the heave, with which Jane caught her breath; and realised that she was weeping. In a moment he was on his knees in front of her. "Jane! Why, what is the matter; Sweet? What on earth--? Have I said anything to trouble you? Jane, what is it? O God, why can't I see her!" Jane mastered her emotion; controlling her voice, with an immense effort. Then drew him down beside her.