at that crisis of his existence. It
seemed a desecration of its awfulness to find comfort in anything
but the highest and the deepest. And the glimpse of that which he
had attained seemed to have passed away from him again,--seemed to
be something which, as it had arisen with Argemone, was lost with
her also,--one speck of the far blue sky which the rolling clouds
had covered in again. As he passed under the shadow of the huge
soot-blackened cathedral, and looked at its grim spiked railings and
closed doors, it seemed to him a symbol of the spiritual world,
clouded and barred from him. He stopped and looked up, and tried to
think. The rays of the setting sun lighted up in clear radiance the
huge cross on the summit. Was it an omen? Lancelot thought so; but
at that instant he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked round.
It was that strange man again.

'So far well,' said he. 'You are making a better day's work than
you fancy, and earning more wages. For instance, here is a packet
for you.'

Lancelot seized it, trembling, and tore it open. It was directed in
Honoria's handwriting.

'Whence had you this?' said he.

'Through Mellot, through whom I can return your answer, if one be
needed.'

The letter was significant of Honoria's character. It busied itself
entirely about facts, and showed the depth of her sorrow by making
no allusion to it. 'Argemone, as Lancelot was probably aware, had
bequeathed to him the whole of her own fortune at Mrs. Lavington's
death, and had directed that various precious things of hers should
be delivered over to him immediately. Her mother, however, kept her
chamber under lock and key, and refused to allow an article to be
removed from its accustomed place. It was natural in the first
burst of her sorrow, and Lancelot would pardon.' All his drawings
and letters had been, by Argemone's desire, placed with her in her
coffin. Honoria had been only able to obey her in sending a
favourite ring of hers, and with it the last stanzas which she had
composed before her death:--

'Twin stars, aloft in ether clear,
Around each other roll away,
Within one common atmosphere
Of their own mutual light and day.

'And myriad happy eyes are bent
Upon their changeless love alway;
As, strengthened by their one intent,
They pour the flood of life and day,

'So we, through this world's waning night,
Shall, hand in hand, pursue our way;
Sh