all, they're boys. I could cut off to sea, or get a job up-country, or--"
Suddenly he smiled at Linda and said in a changed voice, as if he were
confiding a secret, "Weak...weak. No stamina. No anchor. No guiding
principle, let us call it." But then the dark velvety voice rolled out:"

"Would ye hear the story
How it unfolds itself..."

and they were silent.

The sun had set. In the western sky there were great masses of crushed-up
rose-coloured clouds. Broad beams of light shone through the clouds and
beyond them as if they would cover the whole sky. Overhead the blue faded;
it turned a pale gold, and the bush outlined against it gleamed dark and
brilliant like metal. Sometimes when those beams of light show in the sky
they are very awful. They remind you that up there sits Jehovah, the
jealous God, the Almighty, Whose eye is upon you, ever watchful, never
weary. You remember that at His coming the whole earth will shake into one
ruined graveyard; the cold, bright angels will drive you this way and that,
and there will be no time to explain what could be explained so
simply...But to-night it seemed to Linda there was something infinitely
joyful and loving in those silver beams. And now no sound came from the
sea. It breathed softly as if it would draw that tender, joyful beauty
into its own bosom.

"It's all wrong, it's all wrong," came the shadowy voice of Jonathan.
"It's not the scene, it's not the setting for...three stools, three desks,
three inkpots and a wire blind."

Linda knew that he would never change, but she said, "Is it too late, even