one after one
One night , after many another such , he sat entranced , listening to the song of a violin , alone and perfect , soaring and sailing the empyrean unconvoyed , -- and Barbara in his heart was listening with him . He had given up hope of seeing her again in this world , but not all hope of seeing her again somewhere ; and her image had not grown less dear , I should rather say less precious to him . The song , like a heavenly lark , folded its wings while yet high in the air , and ceased : its nest was somewhere up in the blue . Should I say rather that one after one the singing birds flitted from the strings , those telegraph wires betwixt the seen and the unseen , and now the last lingerer was gone ? All was over , and the world was still . But the face of Barbara kept shining from the depths of Richard 's soul , as if she stood behind him , and her face looked up reflected from its ethereal ocean . All at once he was aware that his bodily eyes were resting on the bodily face of Barbara .