It was
such a day as brings a longing to the heart, like that which the moon
brings to the hearts of children.
Mr. Stone and Hilary sat down in the Broad Walk.
"Elm-trees!" said Mr. Stone. "It is not known when they assumed their
present shape. They have one universal soul. It is the same with man."
He ceased, and Hilary looked round uneasily. They were alone on the
bench.
Mr. Stone's voice rose again. "Their form and balance is their single
soul; they have preserved it from century to century. This is all they
live for. In those days"--his voice sank; he had plainly forgotten that
he was not alone--"when men had no universal conceptions, they would
have done well to look at the trees. Instead of fostering a number of
little souls on the pabulum of varying theories of future life, they
should have been concerned to improve their present shapes, and thus to
dignify man's single soul."
"Elms were always considered dangerous trees, I believe," said Hilary.
Mr. Stone turned, and, seeing his son-in-law beside him, asked:
"You spoke to me, I think?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Stone said wistfully:
"Shall we walk?"
They rose from the bench and walked on....
The explanation of the little model's absence was thus stated by herself
to Hilary: "I had an appointment."
"More work?"
"A friend of Mr.
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