“I don’t think I shall. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. Finding all attempts at conversation with his companion in misfortune in vain, Wood, in order to distract his thoughts, looked up at the gigantic structure standing, like a wall of solid darkness, before him. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased. "That we were afraid," replied the other; "but never mind her. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty.
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