Talking, we passed on to the cloisters, lovelier than ever in their brilliant light and shade. Once more we went through the north doorway and gazed down upon San Pedro, the desecrated church, the ancient town walls, and ruined citadel crowning the slopes. Sunshine everywhere; hope upon all; the gloomy skies of yesterday forgotten; earth seemed many degrees nearer heaven. We climbed down into the narrow streets and found Miguel at his door waiting to give us a morning salutation.
"The photograph, señor. Is it a success?"
We told him that still lay in the uncertain future.
Again we found ourselves seated upon the ruined citadel. It was difficult to realise all the horrors of that long past invasion under the influence of these glorious skies, the gladness of this laughing sunshine. The air was scented with wild thyme. The outlines of the towers stood out wonderfully; the blue of heaven shone through the open work of San Filiu's lovely steeple. All the sunshine glinted upon the leaves of the trees in the hollow and traced patterns in the hanging gardens.
"How beautiful it all is," said Anselmo. "On such days how thin the veil separating the seen from the unseen. Our vision seems only just withholden. What an awakening it will be to the higher life!"
With him, also, we had to part; a yet more reluctant farewell than that lately gone through at the barracks. But we hoped to meet again. This must not be our only visit to Gerona; and here Anselmo wished to live and die. He had no ambition for a higher destiny, though even this, it has lately been whispered to us, may one day come to him without change of scene.
We parted as friends part, not mere acquaintances of a day. There is, we have said, a magnetic power that bridges over time and conventionality. As in dreams we sometimes live a lifetime in a moment, so in friendship an hour may do the work of years. Again the clock struck twelve; Anselmo's signal. History repeats itself. To-day he went alone, leaving us standing amidst the ruins. We watched him as he climbed the rugged heights of the cathedral, a tall, dark, graceful figure upon the landscape. At the north doorway he turned, gazed steadily at us for a few moments, raised his hands as though in benediction, and the next moment was lost to sight.
A glory appeared to depart; the spot seemed emptier without him; there was less brightness in the sunshine. We hastened to change the scene, and in the lively streets of the fair, to disperse the sad current of our thoughts. For our hours in Gerona the beautiful were numbered.
CHAPTER XII.
A MINISTERING SPIRIT.
Sweet illusions—Everything seen and done—True devotion—In the vortex—Sunshine and blue skies—Less demon-like pit—Lights and shadows—Arcades lose their gloom—Rosalie—Charm of Anselmo—Romance not dead—H. C. in ecstasy—Escorting an angel—Cathedral steps—San Filiu—A lovely spot—Ancient house—Mullions and latticed windows—Passing away—Rosalie's ministrations—Resignation—Rosalie's farewell—"Consuelo"—Taken from the evil to come—The door closed—Ernesto's world topsy-turvy—Ernesto turns business-like—The catapult again—Up the broad staircase—Not the ghostly hour—Madame in her bureau—Posting ledger—Balance on right side—Madame philosophises—Shrieks to the rescue—"My dear daughter"—Our host and the nightingales—Waiting for next year's leaves—The Señorita Costello—Delormais on the wing—Another vigil—Promise given—Departure—Inspector quails—H. C. collapses—The susceptible age—Lady Maria alters her will—Possession nine-tenths of the law.