It rang all golden.

It thrilled to the verge of the dominant chord in Anne.

It touched her soul, the mother of brooding, mystic harmonies.
"You would have saved him." Anne saw herself for one moment as his guardian angel, her mission frustrated through a flaw of time.

That vision was dashed by another, herself as the ideal, the star he should have looked to before its dawn, herself dishonoured by his young haste, his passion, his failure to foresee.
"He should have waited for me." "Did you wait for him ?" A quick flush pulsed through the whiteness of Anne's face.

She looked back seven years to her girlhood in the southern Deanery, her home.