Never would
she escape them any more; they were to be the comrades of her life, for
Nature had given her no powers of forgetting. But here, in the shrine of
St. Francis, it was as though the worst smart of her anguish dropped
from her. From the dark splendor, the storied beauty of the church,
voices of compassion and of peace spoke to her pain; the waves of
feeling bore her on, unresisting; she closed her eyes against the
lights, holding back the tears. Life seemed suspended, and
suffering ceased.
* * * * *
"So we have tracked you!" whispered a voice in her ear. She looked up
startled. Three English travellers had quietly made their way to the
back of the altar. Sir James Chide stood beside her; and behind him the
substantial form of Mr. Ferrier, with the merry snub-nosed face of
Bobbie Forbes smiling over the great man's shoulder.
Diana--smiling back--put a finger to her lip; the service was at its
height, and close as they were to the altar decorum was necessary.
Presently, guided by her, they moved softly on to a remoter and
darker corner.
"Couldn't we escape to the Upper Church?" asked Chide of Diana.
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