with their refined atmosphere."

We left them and stood at the head of the long flight of steps, admiring
the picturesque scene. To-day everything was radiant with light and
sunshine. The very crowd outside the Conscription-house looked more
hopeful. Even misfortune was less depressing under such blue skies. The
wonderful houses to our right, in their deep lights and shadows, looked
more rare and more artistic than ever. The ancient red roofs of the town
sloping downwards were deep and glowing. Many a gable stood out vividly,
many a dormer window and lattice pane seemed on fire as it reflected in
crimson flashes the rays of the ascending sun.

We reluctantly said good-bye to our colonel. These passing episodes,
possessing all the charm of the unexpected, are one of the delights of
travel. But they leave behind them a regret, for too often there can be
no renewal of the intimacy. Yet we realise that the world holds many
pleasant people, and that life is too short for all its possibilities.

"If you ever visit Gerona again," he said, with a final hand-shake,
"you will come and see me. If I am no longer quartered here, find out
where I am, send me a telegram, and follow quickly. May we meet again!"

Then we took our winding way up to the cathedral.

The fine square was in full sunshine. Deep lights and shadows lay upon
cathedral and palace. The house in which Alvarez once lived looked as
though human tragedy had never touched it. A golden glow lay on the grey
stone, restoring its lost youth. The ancient windows with their
wonderful ironwork, seemed kindled into life, ready to reveal a thousand
secrets of the dead-and-gone centuries. There was no gloom and mystery
to-day. The long, magnificent flight of steps were in full sunshine
also. Sunshine lay upon the town with its clustering roofs; flashed here
and there upon the surface of the winding river; gilded the snow-tops of
the far-off Pyrenees. The skies were blue and laughing; all nature was
radiant.

We passed through the west doorway into the cathedral.

Even here there was a change. The dim religious light might still be
felt; nothing could take that away. A sense of vastness and grandeur
still lay upon the splendid nave; a feeling of mystery still haunted
pillars and aisles and arches, and the deep recesses of the east end.
But to-day shafts of wonderful light flowed in, redeeming all from the
faintest suspicion of gloom. Rainbow-coloured beams from the upper