prayer and much mediation, decided to flee the snares of the
world and to renounce its joys for the sake of bliss the other
side of life.

"When you receive this letter, my dear Daphne," wrote Eustace
Denton, "I shall have been taken into the brotherhood of Saint
Ambrose, for I wish to place myself in a position where there
will be no retracing my steps."

The face of the reader on the Roman hills, as it was lifted from
the page again to the sunshine, was full of the needless pity of
an alien faith.

Along the white road that led up the mountain, and over the
grass-grown path that climbed the higher slopes, trod a solitary
traveler. Now his step was swift, as if some invisible spirit of
the wind were wafting him on; and again the pace was slow and his
head bent, as if some deep thought stayed his speed. There were
green slopes above, green slopes below, and the world opened out
as he climbed on and up. Out and out sketched the great
Campagne, growing wider at each step, with the gray, unbroken
lines of aqueduct leading toward Rome and the shining sea beyond.


* * * * * * * *

On a great flat stone far up on the heights sat two motionless
figures: below them, partly veiling the lower world, floated a
thin mist of cloud.