turbed, rather than uplifted, by an emotion to which
she had no clue, was moved by the delicate, shadowed
beauty of the grey walls and vaulted roof now encompassing
her.

For a moment they both lingered there, irresolute;
and then Jervis, stepping forward, lifted the great
iron handle of the black oak, nail-studded door. But
the door remained shut, and he turned round with the
words, "It's still closed. We shan't be able to get in.
I'm sorry." He looked indeed so disappointed that
there came over Rose the eager determination that he
should not go away baulked of his wish.

"I'm sure it opens at eight," she exclaimed; "and
it can't be very far from eight now. Let's wait here
the few minutes! I'm in no hurry, if you can spare
the time?" Rose spoke rather quickly and breathlessly.
She was trying hard to behave as if this little
adventure of theirs was a very conventional, common-
place happening.

He said something -- she was not sure whether it
was "All right" or "Very well."

On each side of the porch ran a low and deep stone
bench, from which sprang the slender columns which
seemed to climb eagerly upwards to the carved ribs
of the vaulted roof. But they both went on standing
close to one another, companioned only by the strange
sculptured creatures which grinned down from the
spandrels of the arches above.

And then, after waiting for what seemed an eternity --
it was really hardly more than a minute -- in the
deep, brooding silence which seemed to enwrap the
Close, the Cathedral, and their own two selves in a
mantle of stillness, Rose Otway, bursting into sobs,

[[116]]

p115 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p116w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p117

v?