Depth to some is indicated by gloom, and affection by a persistent brooding--as if there were no homage to the past of love save sighs and tears.

When they meet a man whose eyes shine, whose step is light, on whose lips hovers a smile, they shake their heads and say, 'There goes one who has never loved, and who therefore knows not sorrow.' And the man is one of those over whom death has no power; whom time nor space can part from those he loves; who lives in the future more than in the past! Has not his being ever been for the sake of that which was yet to come?
Is not his being now for the sake of that which it shall be?
Has he not infinitely more to do with the great future than the little past?
The Past has descended into hell, is even now ascending glorified, and will, in returning cycle, ever and again greet our faith as the more and yet more radiant Future.
But even lord Herbert had his moments of sad longing after his dainty Molly.

Such moments, however, came to him, not when he was at home with his wife, but when he rode alone by his troops on a night march, or when, upon the eve of an expected battle, he sought sleep that he might fight the better on the morrow..