together side by side, the sad ghosts of our former selves.

"So now I ask thee, Mora, for the sake of those past walks among the
flowers, to lay thy hand within my arm and walk with me in gentle
fellowship, here in this place of gloom and darkness, as, long ago, we
walked among the flowers."

His dark eyes searched her face. An almost youthful eagerness vibrated
in his voice.

She hesitated, lifting her eyes to his. Then slowly moved toward him
and laid her hand within his arm.

Then, side by side, they paced on through the darkness; he, in his
right hand, holding the lantern, swinging low, to light their feet;
she, leaning on his left arm, keeping slow pace with him.

Over their heads, in the meadows, walked lovers, arm in arm; young men
and maidens out in the gathering twilight. All nature, refreshed,
poured forth a fragrant sweetness. But the rose, with its dewy petals,
seemed to the youth less sweet than the lips of the maid. This, he
shyly ventured to tell her; whereupon, as she bent to its fragrance,
her cheeks reflected the crimson of those delicate folds.

So walked and talked young lovers in the Worcester meadows; little
dreaming that, beneath their happy feet, the Knight and the Prioress
paced slowly, side by side, through the darkness.

No word passed between them. With, her hand upon his arm, her face so
near his shoulder, his arm pressing her hand closer and closer against
his heart, silence said more than speech. And in silence they walked.

They passed beneath the city wall, under the Foregate.

The Sheriff rode home to supper, well pleased with a stroke of business
accomplished in a house in which he had chanced to shelter during the
storm.

The good people of Worcester bought and sold in the market. Men whose
day's work was over, hastened to reach the rest and comfort of wife and
home. Crowds jostled gaily through the streets, little dreaming that
beneath their hurrying, busy feet, the Knight and the Prioress paced
slowly, side by side, through the darkness.

Had the Knight spoken, her mind would have been up in arms to resist
him. But, because he walked in silence, her heart had leisure to
remember; and, remembering, it grew sorely tender.

At length they reached the doorway leading into the Cathedral crypt.

The Prioress carried the key in her left hand. Freeing her right from
the grip of his arm, she slipped the key noiselessly into the lock;
but, leaving it there unturned,