It wasn’t pretty. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. It is no good going into that. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free. In spite of the tumultuous joy which agitated him, the bridegroom could not prevent the intrusion of some saddening thoughts, as he reflected upon the melancholy scene which he had so recently witnessed in the same place.
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