amp
was burning, high over the transept. One could not see the chains of
support nor the roof above it; it seemed a great star, but so much all
alone. We walked down the long aisle to stand nearer to it, the darkness
growing deeper as we advanced. When we came almost beneath, both of us
gazing upward, my companion unwittingly stumbled against a lady who was
standing silently looking up at this light, and who had failed to notice
our approach. The contact was severe enough to dislodge from her hand
her folded parasol, for which I began to grope.

There was a hurried sentence of excusation from Poor Jr., followed
by moments of silence before she replied. Then I heard her voice in
startled exclamation:

"Rufus, it is never you?"

He called out, almost loudly,

"Alice!"

Then I knew that it was the second time I had lifted a parasol from the
ground for the lady of the grey pongee and did not see her face; but
this time I placed it in her own hand; for my head bore no shame upon it
now.

In the surprise of encountering Poor Jr. I do not think she noticed that
she took the parasol or was conscious of my presence, and it was but
too secure that my young friend had forgotten that I lived. I think,
in truth, I should have forgotten it myself, if it had not been for the
leaping of my heart.

Ah, that foolish dream of mine had proven true: I knew her, I knew her,
unmistaking, without doubt or hesitancy--and in the dark! How should I
know at the mere sound of her voice? I think I knew before she spoke!

Poor Jr. had taken a step toward her as she fell back; I could only see
the two figures as two shadows upon shadow, while for them I had melted
altogether and was forgotten.

"You think I have followed you," he cried, "but you have no right to
think it. It was an accident and you've got to believe me!"

"I believe you," she answered gently. "Why should I not?"

"I suppose you want me to clear out again," he went on, "and I will; but
I don't see why."

Her voice answered him out of the shadow: "It is only you who make a
reason why. I'd give anything to be friends with you; you've always
known that."

"Why can't we be?" he said, sharply and loudly. "I've changed a great
deal. I'm very sensible, and I'll never bother you again--that other
way. Why shouldn't I see a little of you?"

I heard her laugh then--happily, it seemed to me,--and I thought I
perceived her to extend her hand to him, and that he shook it briefly,