"England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me. ’ ‘Or she imagines that being half English is the same as being completely English,’ suggested Lucilla. It grew clear to her that throughout all her wild raid for independence she had done nothing for anybody, and many people had done things for her. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. Crossing them, he ascended an eminence, which, from its singular shape, seems to have been the site of a Roman encampment, and which commands a magnificent prospect.
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