can do no harm, and it will make her think of
you kindly when you are far away. This strange, secret meeting is yet
another piece of good fortune to-day--this glorious day--has brought
you! Do not throw away your chance. Look again down into her face. See
her dear eyes full of tears. She has never been moved as she is moved
to-day, and it is you who have moved her."

And then another, sterner voice spoke: "_You_ have not moved
her--presumptuous fool! Nay, it is the thought of England, of her
country, of all you stand for to-day, that has moved her. And the next
few minutes will show the stuff of which you are made--if you have the
discipline, the self-restraint, essential to the man who has to lead
others, or if--if you only have the other thing. You are being given now
what you could never have hoped for, a quiet, intimate time with her
alone; you might have had to say good-bye to her in her mother's
presence--that mother who has never really liked you, and whom you have
never really liked."

He held open the little wicket gate for her to pass through. They walked
up the stone path to the wide, hospitable-looking porch which is the
only part of Witanbury Cathedral that has remained much as it was in
pre-Reformation days.

To Jervis Blake, suffused with poignant emotion, every perception
sharpened by mingling triumph and pain, the "faire Doore" of Witanbury
Cathedral had never seemed so lovely as on this still August morning. As
they stepped through the exquisite outer doorway, with its deep
mouldings, both dog-toothed and foliated, marking the transition from
Norman to Gothic, a deep, intense joy in their dual solitude suddenly
rose up in his heart like a white flame.

The interior of the porch was little larger than an ordinary room, but
it was wonderfully perfect in the harmony of its proportions; and even
Rose, less perceptive than her companion, and troubled and disturbed,
rather than uplifted, by an emotion to which she had no clue, was moved
by the delicate, shadowed beauty of the grey walls and vaulted roof now
encompassing her.

For a moment they both lingered there, irresolute; and then Jervis,
stepping forward, lifted the great iron handle of the black oak,
nail-studded door. But the door remained shut, and he turned round with
the words, "It's still closed. We shan't be able to get in. I'm sorry."
He looked indeed so disappointed that there came over Rose the eager
determination that he should not go