legory!

"No, we mustn't be separated," Nick answered, struck by her words, as if
by a prophecy. Then he, too, heard the rustling--faint, winged, and
mysterious.

They stood still and close together, listening. There was no sound from
outside--not a call for the Padre, not a reassuring shout that Billy had
succeeded in finding him.

Angela groped with her hand, and, by accident, touched Nick's. To save his
soul he could not have resisted pressing the small cold fingers!
Wonderful! She did not snatch them away! Often they had shaken hands, or
Nick had taken hers to help her in or out of the motor-car; but there had
been nothing like this. He felt the thrill of the touch go through him as
though electric wires flashed a message to his heart. He was afraid of
himself--afraid he should kiss her hand, or stammer out "I love you!" And
that would be fatal, for she would never trust herself to him again.
Besides, it would not be fair. She was like a child asking his protection,
here in the dark, and he must treat her as a man treats a child who has
come to him because it is afraid. But he could not think of her as a
child. He thought of the night in New York when she had knocked on his
door, and called to him, a stranger, for help. He thought how he had seen
her, drowned in the waves of her hair, like the angel of his dreams.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered, letting him keep her hand, even
clasping his with her fingers. "There's something alive in this church,
something besides ourselves."

Nick felt giddy. It was all he could do to keep himself from catching her
in his arms, no matter what might be the consequences, no matter how she
might hate him a moment afterward. But he resisted, and the strain of
temptation passed.

"A bird has got in, perhaps," he said.

"You--you--don't think it could be the Padre himself ill, or--or----"

Nick understood her hesitation and fear.

"No," he soothed her. "We'd have seen any but some small thing. I've got
two or three matches in my box, I guess. We'll have a look around." This
was supreme self-sacrifice on his part, for to find matches and "look
around" meant letting Angela's hand go. To let it go was tempting
Providence, since almost certainly she would never, of her own accord,
slip it into his again.

"Yes, do let us," she said, and drew the hand away. Nick supposed she had
hardly been conscious that he had held her fingers in his, and even
pressed them. But this was not