"Two nations; between whom there is no intercourse and no
sympathy; who are as ignorant of each other's habits,
thoughts, and feelings, as if they were dwellers in different
zones, or inhabitants of different planets; who are formed by
a different breeding, are fed by a different food, are ordered
by different manners, and are not governed by the same laws."
"You speak of--" said Egremont, hesitatingly.
"THE RICH AND THE POOR."
At this moment a sudden flush of rosy light, suffusing the
grey ruins, indicated that the sun had just fallen; and
through a vacant arch that overlooked them, alone in the
resplendent sky, glittered the twilight star. The hour, the
scene, the solemn stillness and the softening beauty,
repressed controversy, induced even silence. The last words
of the stranger lingered in the ear of Egremont; his musing
spirit was teeming with many thoughts, many emotions; when
from the Lady Chapel there rose the evening hymn to the
Virgin. A single voice; but tones of almost supernatural
sweetness; tender and solemn, yet flexible and thrilling.
Egremont started from his reverie. He would have spoken, but
he perceived that the elder of the strangers had risen from
his resting-place, and with downcast eyes and crossed arms,
was on his knees.
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