softly-rounded, broken cloud, rank
behind rank, in endless perspective, the whole shaped like a mighty
fan. The under side of them was flushed with living rose. The clear
spaces behind them paved with sapphire at the zenith, and palest topaz
where they skirted the far horizon.

"How very beautiful it is!" Honoria cried, joyously. "Richard let us
see this."

She turned her horse at the green ride which leads to the white Temple
situate on that outstanding spur of hill. She rode on quickly till she
reached the platform of turf before the Temple. Richard followed her
with deliberation. He was shaken. His calm was broken up, his whole
being in tumult. Why had she pressed just all those matters home on him
which he had agreed with himself to cast aside and forget? It was a
little cruel, surely, that temptation should assail him thus, and the
white road towards Perfection be made so difficult to tread, just when
he had re-dedicated himself and renewed his vows? He looked after her.
It was here he had met her first, after the time when, as a little
maid, she had proved too swift of foot, leaving him so far behind that
it sorely hurt his baby dignity and caused him to see her depart
without regret. She was still swift of foot. She left him behind now.
For the moment he was ready to swear that, not only without regret, but
with actual thankfulness he could again witness her departure.--Yes, he
wanted her to go, because he so desperately wanted her to stay--that
was the truth. For not only Dickie the natural man, but Dickie "the
wild bull in a net," had a word to say just then.--God in heaven, what
hard work it is to be good!

Miss St. Quentin kicked her left foot out of the stirrup, threw her
right leg over the pommel, turned, and slipped straight out of the
saddle. She stood there a somewhat severely tall, dark figure, strong
and positive in effect, against the immense and reposeful
landscape--far-ranging, purple distance, golden harvest-fields, silver
glint of water in the hollows, all the massive grandeur of the woods,
and that superb pageant of sunset sky.

The groom rode forward, took her horse, led it away to the far side of
the grass platform behind the Temple. Those ranks of rosy cloud in
infinite perspective, with spaces of clearest topaz and sapphire light
between, converged to the glowing glory of the sun, the rim of which
now touched the margin of the world. They were as ranks of worshippers,
of blessed souls re