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"
...
But
wisdom
passes
...
still
the
years
Will
feed
us
wisdom
...
Age
will
go
Back
to
the
old
--
For
all
our
tears
We
shall
not
know
.
"
Eleanor
hated
Maryland
passionately
.
She
belonged
to
the
oldest
of
the
old
families
of
Ramilly
County
and
lived
in
a
big
,
gloomy
house
with
her
grandfather
.
She
had
been
born
and
brought
up
in
France
...
I
see
I
am
starting
wrong
.
Let
me
begin
again
.
Amory
was
bored
,
as
he
usually
was
in
the
country
.
He
used
to
go
for
far
walks
by
himself
--
and
wander
along
reciting
"
Ulalume
"
to
the
corn-fields
,
and
congratulating
Poe
for
drinking
himself
to
death
in
that
atmosphere
of
smiling
complacency
.
One
afternoon
he
had
strolled
for
several
miles
along
a
road
that
was
new
to
him
,
and
then
through
a
wood
on
bad
advice
from
a
colored
woman
...
losing
himself
entirely
.
A
passing
storm
decided
to
break
out
,
and
to
his
great
impatience
the
sky
grew
black
as
pitch
and
the
rain
began
to
splatter
down
through
the
trees
,
become
suddenly
furtive
and
ghostly
.
Thunder
rolled
with
menacing
crashes
up
the
valley
and
scattered
through
the
woods
in
intermittent
batteries
.
He
stumbled
blindly
on
,
hunting
for
a
way
out
,
and
finally
,
through
webs
of
twisted
branches
,
caught
sight
of
a
rift
in
the
trees
where
the
unbroken
lightning
showed
open
country
.
He
rushed
to
the
edge
of
the
woods
and
then
hesitated
whether
or
not
to
cross
the
fields
and
try
to
reach
the
shelter
of
the
little
house
marked
by
a
light
far
down
the
valley
.
It
was
only
half
past
five
,
but
he
could
see
scarcely
ten
steps
before
him
,
except
when
the
lightning
made
everything
vivid
and
grotesque
for
great
sweeps
around
.
Suddenly
a
strange
sound
fell
on
his
ears
.
It
was
a
song
,
in
a
low
,
husky
voice
,
a
girl
's
voice
,
and
whoever
was
singing
was
very
close
to
him
.
A
year
before
he
might
have
laughed
,
or
trembled
;
but
in
his
restless
mood
he
only
stood
and
listened
while
the
words
sank
into
his
consciousness
:
"
Les
sanglots
longs
