The Man : Large Print

I would rather be an angel than God!'The voice of the speaker sounded clearly through the hawthorn tree.

The youngman and the young girl who sat together on the low tombstone looked at eachother.

They had heard the voices of the two children talking, but had not noticedwhat they said; it was the sentiment, not the sound, which roused their attention.The girl put her finger to her lips to impress silence, and the man nodded; they satas still as mice whilst the two children went on talking.* * * * *The scene would have gladdened a painter's heart.

An old churchyard. The churchlow and square-towered, with long mullioned windows, the yellow-grey stoneroughened by age and tender-hued with lichens.

Round it clustered manytombstones tilted in all directions.

Behind the church a line of gnarled and twistedyews.The churchyard was full of fine trees.

On one side a magnificent cedar; on the othera great copper beech.

Here and there among the tombs and headstones manybeautiful blossoming trees rose from the long green grass.

The laburnum glowed inthe June afternoon sunlight; the lilac, the hawthorn and the clusteringmeadowsweet which fringed the edge of the lazy stream mingled their heavysweetness in sleepy fragrance.

The yellow-grey crumbling walls were green inplaces with wrinkled harts-tongues, and were topped with sweet-williams andspreading house-leek and stone-crop and wild-flowers whose delicious sweetnessmade for the drowsy repose of perfect summer.But amid all that mass of glowing colour the two young figures seated on the greyold tomb stood out conspicuously.

The man was in conventional hunting-dress: redcoat, white stock, black hat, white breeches, and top-boots.

The girl was one of therichest, most glowing, and yet withal daintiest figures the eye of man could lingeron.

She was in riding-habit of hunting scarlet cloth; her black hat was tippedforward by piled-up masses red-golden hair.