Save in one respect he knew that
he could never be made to suffer any more. Save for that charred
remnant, there was nothing left for the flame to consume.
And so through all the bitter years he had borne that smiling face upon
his wall, cynically indifferent to the beauty which had been the rapture
and the agony of his life,--a man released from the place of his torment
because his capacity for suffering was almost gone.
Again there were two children's voices singing, and that of the shy angel
gathered confidence. With a species of scoffing humour Sir Beverley's
stony eyes travelled to the window. They rested upon his boy standing
there with bent head--a mute, waiting figure with a curious touch of
pathos in its pose. Sir Beverley's sudden frown drew his forehead. What
ailed the youngster? Why did he stand as if the whole world were resting
on his shoulders?
He made an impatient movement. "For Heaven's sake," he said testily,
"tell those squalling children to go!"
Piers did not stir. "In a moment, sir!" he said.
And so, clear through the night air, the last verse came unhindered
to an end.
"Our glad hosannas, Prince of peace,
Thy welcome shall proclaim;
And Heaven's eternal arches ring
With Thy beloved Name.
And Heaven's eternal arches ring
With Thy beloved Name."
Piers threw up his head with a sudden, spasmodic movement as of a
drowning man.
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