erving, with a
laugh, that we must give the young people their chances."

CHAPTER XLI.

THE CATHEDRAL AT SEVILLE.

"The cathedral was magnificent. All its rich properties in velvets,
silver and gold, had been brought forth for its adornment. The altar was
one blaze of light--tapers of snow-white wax rose in crowds from golden
candlesticks, garlanded with flowers which sent their sweetness through
the pungent smoke of the censers, and clothed the altar with a sacred
whiteness. Reliquaires flaming with jewels, flashed out through all this
noonday splendor, and two enormous tapers, six feet high, stood like
sentinels on each side the altar. Yet all this was insufficient to light
up the vast edifice or penetrate the chapels in the side aisles. Here
all was shadowy and full of religious gloom, where any weary soul might
pray in solitude, notwithstanding the priests were saying high mass at
the great altar, and a grand choir of fresh, young voices filled the
whole edifice with music which seemed born of Heaven.

"The gloom along the centre of the building was heightened by draperies
of warm crimson velvet, which, banded at each seam with gold, swept down
the vast stone pillars and fell in massive folds over the great entrance
doors.

"I could not understand all that was said, for the service was in Latin,
but I did feel the solemn swell of the music in every fibre of my being,
and the devotional feeling which impressed the crowd touched me with
holy sympathy.

"I do not know what caused the impulse, but Mrs. Harrington took my hand
tenderly in hers. Then we stole to a side altar gleaming snow-white
through the shadows, and kneeling down together asked that help and
blessing from God which both of us thirsted for. The whispered prayers
we uttered that solemn hour, undoubtedly sanctified a friendship which
has been growing deeper and stronger from the first hour of my meeting
with this lovely woman. She wept that day, and I saw, for the first
time, that under her soft and gentle exterior, lay feelings and passions
which the world would never dream of.

"I did not appear to notice the singular emotion she betrayed at that
altar, but it recurred to me afterwards, and my mind was filled with
conjectures about its cause. Surely it could not be her husband. No
human being was ever more attentive and kind to a wife than General
Harrington was to his. There was something almost chivalric in his
devotion to her wishes.