"Rejoice, rejoice, Rejoice, give thanks, and sing."
He sang it for her. The voices of the choir seemed suddenly to have traveled a long way off and the tones of the organ were hushed. He heard his own voice echoing in the silent church. The words seemed to come out all wrong. He felt a terrible sense of oppression in the region of his stomach, and he wondered if he were going to be ill. It was a relief to hear himself crying at the top of his lungs, and to have Nannie scolding him lovingly, and leading him out of the church. He drove home, sniffing but comforted, in his father's lap.
"He felt it," old Nannie said to Burns, as she lifted him out of the carriage. "The child understood, bless him!"
"There wasn't a dry eye come out 'f the church," said Burns, "except them two selves."
"I wonder where they've gone?" said Nannie, eyeing Burns jealously. "They must have took a train, I suppose?"
"That's telling," said the old man, whipping up the horses that were covered with foam.
Four days is a long, long time, Marjorie had said, for the hours that are breathlessly counted make long, long days; they are long as those of summer-childhood in passing. But ever, when it comes May, and the soft, chill breezes blow from the ocean across the sun-soaked sands, and the clouds run dazzling races with the sea gulls, Marjorie will feel herself running too, catching up breathless a few paces behind Leonard, as on that second afternoon on a wind-swept beach of the Kentish coast. Like mad things, their heads thrown back, hair flying, mouths open, the spray smiting their open eyes, with all the ecstasy of their new-found energy, they clambered over the slippery seaweed and leaped from rock to rock, swept along with the winds, daring the waves, shouting down the surf.
Marjorie, when those spring days come round again, will remember a little cove, sheltered from the wind, warmed by the fitful spring sunlight, where, panting, they threw themselves down on the sand, bodies glowing, faces to the sun.
"Hello, old sea gulls!" cried Marjorie, beginning to sneeze.
"God, but I feel fit; I feel glorious! Don't you, Marjie?"
"Don't I, though! I feel glorious. O God!" cried Marjorie, who did not know whether that was swearing or praying, and did not care.