pictures--save
those which Rome alone possesses," he added. "I spend all my evenings
here, and hope to be allowed to, for the short time that I remain in
the neighbourhood."

"You have my permission to come and go as you please. I am Mr. de
Vaux," Paul said, touching his horse with the whip. "Good-evening!"

"Good-evening, sir! Good-evening, madam! I thank you!"

They rode on down the avenue, Paul silent and absorbed, and making no
attempt to pursue the conversation. At the bend of the lane he turned
round in his saddle. The priest was standing with his back to them,
motionless and silent as a figure of stone.

CHAPTER VII

"WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT YOUR MISSION?"

The winter moon, soft and bright and full, looked down upon the
ruins of Vaux Abbey. A strange beauty lay upon the bare, rock-strewn
hillside and desolate moor. Afar off a grey, brawling stream was
touched by its light, and in its place a band of gold seemed coiled
around the grey, sleeping hill. A black, reed-grown tarn at the foot
of the Abbey gleamed and quivered like a fair silver shield. The dark
pines which crowned their sandy slopes lost their forbidding frown in
an unaccustomed softness, and every harsh line and broken pillar of
the ruined chapel was toned down into a rich, sad softness. A human
face, too, uplifted to the sky, so silent and motionless that it
seemed almost set into the side of one of those groined arches, had
lost all its harshness and worldliness in the glow of that falling
light. It might have been the face of a saint, save for the vague
unhappiness which shone in the clear, dark eyes; for at that moment,
spirituality, wistfulness, and reverence seemed carved into the white,
still features. But there was disquiet, too; and, after a while, as
though some cloud had passed across the moon, a dark shade stole into
the white face. The brows were contracted into a frown, and the eyes
filled with restless doubt. Father Adrian moved away from the shadow
of the pillar, and stood, tall and motionless, on the ruined chapel
floor, with his eyes fixed upon the distant landscape. After a moment
or two, his lips began to move and he commenced to speak aloud in a
low, deep tone.

"Six nights has my voice gone up to God from amongst these silent
ruins, six nights I have prayed in rain. These fair, still evenings
mock me! Whose is their beauty, if it be not God's; and, if there be a
God, and if the Blessed Virgin, our Holy Mother, inde