But the sombre
half-light of the two lamps mellowed and softened the harsh contrast of
these details until the whole body of the church appeared filled with a
vague harmonious shadow. The air, heavy with the odors of past incense,
seemed to be a part of that expression, as if the solemn and sympathetic
twilight became palpable in each deep, long-drawn inspiration.
Again overcome by the feeling of repose and peacefulness, Hurlstone sank
upon a rude settle, and bent his head and folded arms over a low railing
before him. How long he sat there, allowing the subtle influence to
transfuse and possess his entire being, he did not know. The faint
twitter of birds suddenly awoke him. Looking up, he perceived that it
came from the vacant square of the tower above him, open to the night
and suffused with its mysterious radiance. In another moment the roof of
the church was swiftly crossed and recrossed with tiny and adventurous
wings. The mysterious light had taken an opaline color. Morning was
breaking.
The slow rustling of a garment, accompanied by a soft but heavy tread,
sounded from the passage. He started to his feet as the priest, whom
he had seen on the deck of the Excelsior, entered the church from the
refectory.
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