outside, and the
bishop stood up, slowly and painfully.

"That will be Mr. Giles," he said, "hungry for supper."

The two monks sank down on their knees, and as Chris closed his eyes he
heard a soft murmur of blessing over his head.

Then each kissed his hand and Chris went to the door, half blind with
tears.

He heard a whisper from the bishop to the Prior, who still lingered a
moment, and a half sob--

"God helping me!"--said the Prior.

There was no more spoken, and the two went down the stairs together into
the golden sunshine with the warder behind them.

Chris dared not look at the other. He had had a glimpse of his face as
he stood aside on the stairs to let him pass, and what he saw there told
him enough.

* * * * *

There were plenty of boats rocking on the tide at the foot of the river
stairs outside the Tower, and they stepped into one, telling the man to
row to Southwark.

It was a glorious summer evening now. The river lay bathed in the level
sunshine that turned it to molten gold, and it was covered with boats
plying in all directions. There were single wherries going to and from
the stairs that led down on all sides into the water, and barges here
and there, of the great merchants or nobles going home to supper, with a
line of oars on each side, and a glow of colour gilding in the stem and
prow, were moving up stream towards the City. London Bridge stood out
before them presently, like a palace in a fairy-tale, blue and romantic
against the western glow, and above it and beyond rose up the tall spire
of the Cathedral. On the other side a fringe of houses began a little to
the east of the bridge, and ran up to the spires of Southwark on the
other side, and on them lay a glory of sunset with deep shadows barring
them where the alleys ran down to the water's edge. Here and there
behind rose up the heavy masses of the June foliage. A troop of swans,
white patches on the splendour, were breasting up against the
out-flowing tide.

The air was full of sound; the rattle and dash of oars, men's voices
coming clear and minute across the water; and as they got out near
mid-stream the bell of St. Paul's boomed far from away, indescribably
solemn and melodious; another church took it up, and a chorus of mellow
voices tolled out the Angelus.

Chris was half through saying it to himself, when across the soft murmur
sounded the clash of brass far away beyond the bridge.

T