he reliance of one who leans on
a higher support than his own. Here was one worthy of enduring
friendship had our lines not been thrown far apart. As it was he too
would disappear out of our life and we should see his face no more. But
his memory would remain.

At the west doorway we turned and looked upon the splendid vision: the
magnificent nave with its slender pillars and lofty roof, the distant
choir with aisles and arches visible and invisible in the dim religious
light that threw upon all its sense of mystery. Above all the wonderful
tone.

"For five and twenty years I have looked upon this scene, and its
influence upon me is as strong as ever," said the priest. "Here I have
found that peace which passeth all understanding. How many a time have I
let myself in with my key, and in these solitary aisles withdrawn from
the world to hold communion with the unseen. Here strength has come to
fight life's battles. Here I have composed many a sermon, here silently
confessed my sins to the Almighty and obtained pardon. Breathe not the
heresy, but confession to man brings me no rest. I have to go to the
great Fountain Head, trusting in the one Atonement and one Mediator.
Nothing else gives me consolation."

We crossed to the doorway of the cloisters. Anselmo, unwilling to leave
us, crossed also. We were too glad of his companionship to wish it
otherwise. He added much to the spell of our surroundings; a central
figure from which all interest radiated. It was passing from the gloom
of the interior to the broad light of day subdued by the grey clouds
that hid the sunshine.

The cloisters reposed in all the charm of antiquity. For eight hundred
years Time had rolled over them with all its subtle influence. There
they stood, an irregular quadrangle, the simple, beautiful round arches
resting on coupled shafts, whose carved capitals were so singularly
elaborate and delicate. Seldom had the attraction of Romanesque
architecture been more evident.

[Illustration: CHURCH OF SAN PEDRO: GERONA.]

"I love them," said the priest. "How often have I paced these silent
corridors until the very stones seem worn with my footsteps. And they
witnessed the most painful scene, the last great struggle of my
life--but my triumph also. For here I bade my earthly farewell to
Rosalie; on this very spot on which we stand renounced all human hopes
and claims upon her and gave her into Heaven's keeping. Here I placed
her treasured letter next