But as a second time, in surrounding the chapel, they passed the
spot on which he kneeled, one of the white-stoled maidens, as she
glided by him, detached from the chaplet which she carried a
rosebud, which dropped from her fingers, perhaps unconsciously,
on the foot of Sir Kenneth. The knight started as if a dart had
suddenly struck his person; for, when the mind is wound up to a
high pitch of feeling and expectation, the slightest incident, if
unexpected, gives fire to the train which imagination has already
laid. But he suppressed his emotion, recollecting how easily an
incident so indifferent might have happened, and that it was only
the uniform monotony of the movement of the choristers which made
the incident in the slightest degree remarkable.

Still, while the procession, for the third time, surrounded the
chapel, the thoughts and the eyes of Kenneth followed exclusively
the one among the novices who had dropped the rosebud. Her step,
her face, her form were so completely assimilated to the rest of
the choristers that it was impossible to perceive the least marks
of individuality; and yet Kenneth's heart throbbed like a bird
that would burst from its cage, as if to assure him, by its
sympathetic suggestions, that the female who held the right file
on the second rank of the novices was dearer to him, not only
than all the rest that were present, but than the whole sex
besides. The romantic passion of love, as it was cherished, and
indeed enjoined, by the rules of chivalry, associated well with
the no less romantic feelings of devotion; and they might be said
much more to enhance than to counteract each other. It was,
therefore, with a glow of expectation that had something even of
a religious character that Sir Kenneth, his sensations thrilling
from his heart to the ends of his fingers, expected some second