Louis the Fourteenth yet lived, and expectations were, therefore, indulged of assistance from France. She was watching him intently. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength. ” “Yes. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. ‘You are too shrewd for me, ma’am. And rather unscrupulous. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that. 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.
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