They would be nearly at its beginning when I turned back and made across the open field to the foot of Sidbury and the slow, sad camp-songs of our galloping artillery; and I sat there with them to listen, and the hills and the songs faded quite away. There were some scores of eyes that were none too dry in that Chapel, and I remembered that they must not be stared at while they came down the aisle. And yet there would not be much real unhappiness there; for there is a kind of sadness that reaches higher than joy. So we listened, all together, until finally the thing was finished and we rose; and as I said in my letter to C. A. A., at last, you came out of Chapel, and I came back over the hill'. << less