fty arches, and the many persistent and dominant
associations taking possession of her memory and imagination, made the
Abbey almost as dear to Felicita as it was through its mysterious and
sacred repose to Phebe.

Felix had paced along the streets with rapid and headlong haste, but now
he hesitated before turning into Dean's Yard. When he did so, he
sauntered round the inclosure two or three times, wondering in what
words he could best move the Canon, and framing half a dozen speeches in
his mind, which seemed ridiculous to himself when he whispered them half
aloud. At last, with a sudden determination to trust to the inspiration
of the moment, he turned his steps hurriedly into the dark, low arches
of the cloisters.

But he had not many steps to take. The tall, somewhat stooping figure of
Canon Pascal, so familiar to him, was leaving through one of the
archways, with head upturned to the little field of sky above the
quadrangle, where the moon was to be seen with her attendant clouds.
Felix could read every line in his strongly marked features, and the
deep furrows which lay between his thick brows. The tinge of gray in his
dark hair was visible in the moonlight, or rather the pale gleam caused
all his hair to seem silvery. His eyes were glistening with delight, and
as he heard steps pausing at his side, he turned, and at the sight of
Felix his harsh face melted into almost a womanly smile of greeting.

"Welcome, my son," he said, in a pleasant and deep voice; "you are just
in time to share this glorious sight with me. Pity 'tis it vanishes so
soon!"

He clasped Felix's hand with a warm, hearty pressure, such as few hands
know how to give; though it is one of the most tender and most refined
expressions of friendship. Felix grasped his with an unconscious grip
which made Canon Pascal wince, though he said nothing. For a few minutes
the two men stood gazing upward in reverent silence, each brain busy
with its own thoughts.

"You were coming to see me?" said Canon Pascal at last.

"Yes," answered Felix, in a voice faltering with eager emotion.

"On some special errand?" pursued Canon Pascal. "Don't let us lose time
in beating about the bush, then. You cannot say anything that will not
be interesting to me, Felix; for I always find a lad like you, and at
your age, has something in his mind worth listening to. What is it, my
son?"

"I don't want to beat about the bush," stammered Felix, "but oh! if you
only knew