sank deep into her heart. She shook her head with a slight smile-a smile of great sadness, of great compassion.
"You will be still in error! While you say the 'Non Angelus,' in your meaning, you will still expect more divinity than you will ever find on earth. It is, not that we are not angels—that only idiots dream—it is that we are"
"What?"
"Worse than the worst of men too often! Hush! we will talk no more. We shall soon be near my cathedral."
She leant back in silence, while the vessel swept with a free, bird-like motion through the water, the boat-song of the Capriote rowers rising and falling with the even beat of their sculls, while behind them they left the rock of Capri, orange crowned in the sunlight, with the soft grey hue of the olives melting down into the many-coloured sea.
A low and darkling arch fronted them—the porch of the temple,—where the broad bay lay coolest and darkest, and the waters deepened into deeper blue. They bowed their heads; the boat shot down into the gloom, passing under the narrow passage-way, close and contracted as a cell; then out of its darkness the skiff glided, without sound, into the silent
