I had never heard her sing, and did not expect much. But although she had little execution, there was, I found, a wonderful charm both in her voice and the simplicity of her mode. I did not feel this at first, nor could I tell when the song began to lay hold upon me, but when it ceased, I found that I had been listening intently. I have often since tried to recall it, but as yet it has eluded all my efforts. I still cherish the hope that it may return some night in a dream, or in some waking moment of quiescent thought, when what we call the brain works as it were of itself, and the spirit allows it play. The close was lost in a louder peal of thunder than had yet burst. Charley and I went again to the library to look out on the night. It was dark as pitch, except when the lightning broke and revealed everything for one intense moment. ‘I think sometimes,’ said Charley, ‘that death will be like one of those flashes, revealing everything in hideous fact--for just one-moment and no more.’ ‘How for one moment and no more, Charley?’ I asked. ‘Because the sight of the truth concerning itself must kill the soul, if there be one, with disgust at its own vileness, and the miserable contrast between its aspirations and attainments, its pretences and its efforts. At least, that would be the death fit for a life like mine--a death of disgust at itself. We claim immortality; we cringe and cower with the fear that immortality may _not_ be the destiny of man; and yet we--_I_--do things unworthy not merely of immortality, but unworthy of the butterfly existence of a single day in such a world as this sometimes seems to be. Just think how I stabbed at my sister’s faith this morning--careless of making her as miserable as myself! Because my father has put into her mind his fancies, and I hate them, I wound again the heart which they wound, and which cannot help their presence!’ ‘But the heart that can be sorry for an action is far above the action, just as her heart is better than the notions that haunt it.’ ‘Sometimes I hope so. But action determines character. And it is all such a muddle! I don’t care much about what they call immortality. I doubt if it is worth the having. I would a thousand times rather have one day of conscious purity of heart and mind and soul and body, than an eternity of such life as I have now.--What am I saying?’ he added, with a despairing laugh. ‘It is a fool’s comparison; for an eternity of the former would be bliss--one moment of the latter is misery.’ I could but admire and pity my poor friend both at once. Miss Pease had entered unheard. ‘Mr Cumbermede,’ she said, ‘I have been looking for you to show you your room. It is not the one I should like to have got for you, but Mrs Wilson says you have occupied it before, and I dare say you will find it comfortable enough.’ ‘Thank you, Miss Pease. I am sorry you should have taken the trouble. I can go home well enough. I am not afraid of a little rain.’