BOOK VIII. THE CAPTIVE BOUNDThey sat with the twilight shadows about them. Memories too poignant assailed them, and her hand trembled as it lay upon his arm.
“How strange it was!” she whispered. “Have we kept the faith?”
“Who knows?” he answered; and in a low voicehe read—
“And long the way appears, which seem’d so short To the less practised eye of sanguine youth; And high the mountain-tops, in cloudy air, The mountain-tops where is the throne of Truth, Tops in life’s morning-sun so bright and bare!”
Section 1. This was a golden hour in Thyrsis’ life. The gates of wonder were flung open, and all things were touched with a new and mystic glow. He scarcely realized it at the time; for once he was too much moved to think abouthis own emotions, the artist was altogether lost in the man. E
