She  jumped  up.    "  What?"

"You— don't  read."

"ni  read;  I'll  read."

Her  hands  grovelled  among  the  rough,  sticky
pages.  An  odour  as  of  decaying  foliage,  whicK
she  had  never  noted  before,  came  from  the  book.
It  was  such  an  odour  as  comes  from  dark,  ill-
ventilated  rooms,  and  early  autumn  and  every-
day clothes.
At  last  she  found  what  she  was  seeking.  "Ky-
rie  eleison!  Christe  eleison!  Dear  God,  Father
in  heaven,  have  mercy  upon  us!"

Her  lips  babbled  what  her  eyes  saw,  but  her
heart  and  her  senses  prayed  another  prayer:
"Father  in  Heaven,  who  art  love  and  mercy,  do
not  count  for  sin  to  those  two  that  which  they  are
committing  against  themselves.  Bless  their  love,
even  if  they  do  not  desire  Thy  blessing.  Send
faithfulness  into  their  hearts  that  they  cleave
to  one  another  and  remain  grateful  for  the  bliss
which  Thou  givest  them.  Ah,  those  happy  ones,
those  happy  ones!"

Tears  came  into  her  eyes.  She  bent  her  face
upon  the  yellow  leaves  of  the  book  to  hide  her
weeping.
182        THE    SONG    OF    DEATH

It  seemed  to  her  suddenly  as  though  she  un-
derstood tlie  speeeh  spoken  in  this  land  of  eternal
spring  hy  sun  and  sea,  hy  hedges  of  flowers  and
evergreen  trees,  hy  the  song  of  hirds  and  the
laughter  of  man.  Tlie  seeret  which  she  had
souglvt  to  solve  by  day  and  by  night  lay  sud-
denly revealed  before  her  eyes.
In  a  sudden  change  of  feeling  her  heart  grew
cold  toward  that  sinful  pair  for  %vhich  she  had
but  just  prayed.  Those  people  became  as
strangers  to  her  and  sank  into  the  mist.  Their
w^hispering  died  away  as  if  it  came  from  a  great
distance.
