How superb it is--the roll, the majesty of it; the severe, chastened beauty of the main feeling, the individual lines!' And he quoted line after line, lingering over the cadences.
'It was my father's favorite of all,' she said, in the low vibrating voice of memory.

'He said the last verse to me the day before he died.' Robert recalled it-- 'Yet tears to human suffering are due, And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone As fondly we believe.
Poor Richard Leyburn! Yet where had the defeat lain?
'Was he happy in his school life ?' he asked, gently.

'Was teaching what he liked ?' Oh yes--only--', Catherine paused and then added hurriedly, as though drawn on in spite of herself by the grave sympathy of his look-'I never knew anybody so good who thought himself of so little account.

He always believed that he had missed everything, wasted everything, and that anybody else would have made infinitely more out of his life.

He was always blaming, scourging himself.