And sometimes--we know not why, but we shall
know hereafter, for life is not completely happy since it is not
heaven, nor completely unhappy since it is the road thither--
sometimes the light of the sun is withdrawn for a moment, and that
which is fairest vanishes from the place that was enriched by its
presence. Yet the garden is never quite deserted. Modest flowers,
whose charms we had not noted when youth was bright and the world
seemed ours, now lift their heads in sheltered places and whisper
peace. The morning song of the birds is hushed, for the dawn breaks
less rosily in the eastern skies, but at twilight they still come
and nestle in the branches that were sunned in the smile of love and
watered with its happy tears. And over the grave of each buried
hope or joy stands an angel with strong comforting hands and patient
smile; and the name of the garden is Life, and the angel is Memory.'
Chapter XVI. The decay of Romance.
I have changed my Belvern, and there are so many others left to
choose from that I might live in a different Belvern each week.
North, South, East, and West Belvern, New Belvern, Old Belvern,
Great Belvern, Little Belvern, Belvern Link, Belvern Common, and
Belvern Wells. They are all nestled together in the velvet hollows
or on the wooded crowns of the matchless Belvern Hills, from which
they look down upon the fairest plains that ever blessed the eye.
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