” He began. Ennison spoke at last. 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. Try and let him never regret it. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself. E.
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