He was aware that the girl was very still, listening with bent head,
"Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we …"
his breath failed him and he was silent. Over there beyond that wide expanse of lapping water lay the world with its houses and railways, its business, its spider-web of human relations. Here in the shadow they were alone together.
"But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long withdrawing roar.
Retreating to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world."
He stopped. Now that he had come to what he wished to say, he dared not.
"Don't you know the rest?" asked the girl softly.
"Yes," said Neale huskily, "I know it."
She waited for him to go on, and when he did not, she said, "Well, no matter. I know it too."
She stood beside him in the blue twilight, her fair head raised, her eyes looking far over the water. Neale was certain that she too was silently repeating,
"Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new.
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night"
The great day was over. The Yew Tree had been planted and orated over. The scared Valedictorian had stumbled through as much of his speech as he could remember. Neale, with a hundred other Seniors had stood up and received the
