different angles, he went behind the easels, passing
from one to another. As he returned, with the thought of giving her
pleasure, he brought along with him one of the sketches of herself and
held it out before her.

"Do you recognize it?" he asked.

She refused to look at first. Then arousing herself from her
indifference she glanced at it. But when she beheld there what she had
never seen--how great had been her love of him; when she beheld there
the light now gone out and realized that it meant the end of happy days
with him, she shut her eyes quickly and jerked her head to one side
with a motion for him to take the picture away. But she had been
brought too close to her sorrow and suddenly she bent over her hands
like a snapped reed and the storm of her grief came upon her.

They started up to get to her. They fought one another to get to her.
They crowded around the platform, and tried to hide her from one
another's eyes, and knelt down, and wound their arms about her, and
sobbed with her; and then they lifted her and guided her behind the
screens.

"Now, if you will allow them," he said, when she came out with them, one
of them having lent her a veil, "some of these young friends will go
home with you. And whenever you wish, whenever you feel like it, come
back to us. We shall be ready. We shall be waiting. We shall all be
glad."

On the heights the cathedral rises--slowly, as the great houses of man's
Christian faith have always risen.

Years have drifted by as silently as the winds since the first rock was
riven where its foundations were to be laid, and still all day on the
clean air sounds the lonely clink of drill and chisel as the blasting
and the shaping of the stone goes on. The snows of winters have drifted
deep above its rough beginnings; the suns of many a spring have melted
the snows away. Well nigh a generation of human lives has already
measured its brief span about the cornerstones. Far-brought,
many-tongued toilers, toiling on the rising walls, have dropped their
work and stretched themselves in their last sleep; others have climbed
to their places; the work goes on. Upon the shoulders of the images of
the Apostles, which stand about the chancel, generations of
pigeons--the doves of the temple whose nests are in the niches--upon the
shoulders of the Apostles generations of pigeons born in the niches have
descended out of the azure as with the benediction of shimmering wings.
Generations of