The record-union., 1894-07-28

my tnOugnl. LII was early, anu Only Hefe
and there had tiny old window been
thrown open to the light and fragrance
of the morning.
Not soul was stirring within the close
nor in the sweet old thoroughtares sur
rounding it. l stepped forward to the
open door of the south cathedral porch,
smiling at the vagariousness of my own
thoughts. With this smile still on my
face, / turned again and looked above
me at the quiet houses.
Just over my head l saw ma1den,s
face, fair as the morning. Its owner was
leaning from a window easement, bare
headed and radiant, as if for draught of
the sunlight and odor OF the roses and
| flowers. Our eyes met. She, too, was
smiling, as though she had interpreted
my thoughts as they had sent the glow OF
genial merriment into her cheeks and
great hazel eyes.
At almost the same instant, woman
stood beside her. She had come forward
with that intangible trace of smile in
her own face which smile in sympa-
thetic companions always prompts, even
before its cause is known. 1t was a
kindly face, the face of an elderly woman
who had known doior, but had con-
| quered pain; face sweet and good and
| patient, nodded into divine if not phys
| ical beauty out of consideration for
= y
| in her own heart, out of the brave and
| tender burial OF self.
| Some sort of swift and unexplainable
| intelligence must have flashed between
| us, for | saw her face grow pale. She
stepped back quickly, the maiden with
| her, and a half repressed exclamation es-
capped her lips.
1.-The 'tother onen' involuntarily burst
| from my own.
her quick disappearance were not enough
| to force this willing conviction upon me,
her words-they were so near meas
could hear her companion's anxious eX--
preSsions of soothing and alarm, dlspelled
all doubt.
ITS nothing. nothing, Grace" she
said. ''Eor a moment-he was Ike him
| 1t startled me-"
"And you lost your precious keepsake,
the little prayer-boo that he gave you at
vespers last evening, poor dear That
made 1t worse, didn't it. auntie?" could
hear the maiden comfortingly reply.
| ''Was-was he very like the-the young
man in the street, auntie?"
Very, very like, Grace. Oh, very, very
| likev'
Poor, poor auntie. Let's run right
over and take another good look for the
| prayer-book before the visitors begin
coming to the cathedral
This is all that l saw and overheard, for
passed into the cathedral at once; but
there was a tone in the older woman's
words which longed to have reach the
ears of the savage prisoner from Ballarat,
and thrill in the maiden's inquiry
which stirred another member of the
| Dorklin family as no cathedral incident
had ever affected him before.
A moment later the woman and
maiden had crossed st. Mary's square
! and the close and entered the cathedral,
passing at once to the choir. From
within the west window angle, where /
remained unobserved, L now and then
saw their forms fitting between the choir
screen and the altar.
They were still bareheaded, and they
moved about the place as those having
known its mellowed lights through years
of loving familiarity. Their search had
evidently been futile, for they finally
| slowly retraced their steps, with haltings
and frequent quests through transepts
and nave, Just as they disappeared the
elder woman turned at the porch door,
| shaded her eyes and cast sweeping,
| longing glance around the sanctuary, as
| though the wrath of Kirby Dorklin, con-
| iured by my accidental presence beneath
| her window, might be hutterng some
where along the inner shadows.
Never mind, auntie. Come along"
said the maiden cheerily. Here's papa
now. He'll keep sharp lookout for the
PRAYER book"
"Yes, yes, dears," heartily answered a
portIy, merry-faced man, who at that
moment entered the cathedral.
A comfortable-look man he was,
with pompous little ways; ways that in
any place would have puzzled one
whether to set him down for a bishop or
Clergyman. Huge keys jingled musically
in his hand, and bright air of yigor and
bustling came with him. He trundled
bravely to little table beside the choir
screen, tossed the keys upon 1t, clapped
looked approvingly from arch vaulting
to nave tiling and from transept to tram
sept, as ii to say:
"Ah, everything is here. just as left it.
Monuments, efhgies, brasses and all !
We are now ready for the business and
recitals of the day ~
Then / knew that he was the verger;
that the sweet young face at the window
was the face of the verger's daughter;
discovered was sister mayhap; and an
unaccountable feeling of fondness for the
CHEEKY old fellow, half prophetic and
grateful, followed him from my heart
where his echoing footsteps led.
Confused as my emotions were, the in
t1uenc6 OF The sacred ana glorious SCruc-
ture was for a time paramount. Stand
ing Just beneath its west window, beside
the font, my eyes followed its splendid
lines of depth and hight, up and on, up
and on-past choir-screen and choir, past
delicate flying buttresses across the huge
transept-opening above, past the Won
drous carvings of the chancel and chan
try faces, past the high altar and the
tilmy Gothic reredos, to that marvellous
east window, greatest in Britain-and
feasted upon as perfect Christian temple
as the inspired builders have ever
wrought.
Rapt and exultant l started idly for
ward, musing that it could be likened
only to the arched vaulting of majestic
forest trees where innumerable interlac-
ing branches and leaves so filter. but
never turn back, the sunlight, that from
point of arch to sward beneath there is a
pulsing, palpable, transcendent glow,
when my foot touched some tiny, dark
object beside the font.
/ stopped and picked it up. Day of
dreams and miracles thought /, here was
the anxiously sought prayer book!
tremblingly scanned it's yellow pages.
Inside the first cover / saw the inscrip-
ton:
ID. K. to Dorothy Mention.
At the back, bound in next the liable
of Kindred and Affinity" were blank
leaves for a diary. Only one page had
been written upon. In red ink, near the
bottom, opposite the date, May "a, 1851,
was the legend
Our engagement day
u NJ and X d.