hould like to live in the Precincts."

That brought them to a discussion of plans in which Dion was talked of
with warm affection and admiration by Rosamund; and all the time she was
talking, Canon Wilton saw the beautiful woman in the chair listening
to the distant organ. He knew of a house that was to be let in the
Precincts, but that night he did not mention it. Something prevented him
from doing so--something against which he struggled, but which he failed
to overcome.

When they separated it was nearly eleven o'clock. As Rosamund took
her silver candlestick from the Canon at the foot of the shallow oak
staircase she said:

"I've had _such_ a happy evening!"

It was a very sweet compliment very sweetly paid. No man could have been
quite indifferent to it. Canon Wilton was not. As he looked at Rosamund
a voice within him said:

"That's a very dear woman."

It spoke undeniable truth. Yet another voice whispered:

"Oh, if I could change her!"

But that was impossible. The Canon knew that, for he was very sincere
with himself; and he realized that the change he wanted to see could
only come from within, could never be imposed by him from without upon
the mysterious dweller in the Temple of Rosamund.

That night Rosamund undressed very slowly and "pottered about" in her
room, doing dreamily unnecessary things. She heard the chimes, and she
heard the watchman calling the midnight hour near her window as "Great
John" lifted up his voice. In the drawers where her clothes were laid
the Canon's housekeeper had put lavender. She smelt it as she listened
to the watchman's voice, shutting her eyes. Presently she drew aside
curtain and blind and looked out of the window. She saw the outline of
part of the great Cathedral with the principal tower, the home of "Great
John"; she felt the embracing arms of the Precincts; and when she knelt
down to say her prayers she thought:

"Here is a place where I can really pray."

Nuns surely are helped by their convents and monks by the peace of their
whitewashed cells.

"It is only in sweet places of retirement that one can pray as one ought
to pray," thought Rosamund that night as she lay in bed.

She forgot that the greatest prayer ever offered up was uttered on a
cross in the midst of a shrieking crowd.

On the following day she went to the morning service in the
Cathedral, and afterwards heard something which filled her with joyful
anticipation. Canon Wilton told her the