By turns I watched the sunlight streaming
along the turf and lighting the foliage of the trees on the
other side of the dell; looking in a kind of dream, as if I
were not Daisy nor this Magnolia in any reality. I suddenly
started and awoke to realities as Darry began to sing —
"My Father's house is built on high,
Far, far above the starry sky;
And though like Lazarus sick and poor,
My heavenly mansion is secure.
I'm going home, —
I'm going home, —
I'm going home
To die no more!
To die no more —
To die no more —
I'm going home
To die no more!"
The word "home" at the end of each line was dwelt upon in a
prolonged sonorous note. It filled my ear with its melodious,
plaintive breath of repose; it rested and soothed me. I was
listening in a sort of trance, when another sound at my side
both stopped the song and quite broke up the effect. It was
Preston's voice. Now for it. He was all ready for a fight; and
I felt miserably battered and shaken and unfit to fight
anything.
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