What a life would be theirs, Hilda, in their marble Eden!" "It is not kind, nor like yourself," said Hilda gently, "to throw ridicule on emotions which are genuine.

I revere this glorious church for itself and its purposes; and love it, moreover, because here I have found sweet peace, after' a great anguish." "Forgive me," answered the sculptor, "and I will do so no more.

My heart is not so irreverent as my words." They went through the piazza of St.Peter's and the adjacent streets, silently at first; but, before reaching the bridge of St.Angelo, Hilda's flow of spirits began to bubble forth, like the gush of a streamlet that has been shut up by frost, or by a heavy stone over its source.

Kenyon had never found her so delightful as now; so softened out of the chillness of her virgin pride; so full of fresh thoughts, at which he was often moved to smile, although, on turning them over a little more, he sometimes discovered that they looked fanciful only because so absolutely true.
But, indeed, she was not quite in a normal state.

Emerging from gloom into sudden cheerfulness, the effect upon Hilda was as if she were just now created.