higher than the rest, paused the new risen moon, silvering the first
beneath, and farther down, breaking with one long and yet mellower track
of light over the waters of the lake.

As Godolphin approached he did so, unconsciously, with a hushed and
noiseless step. There is something in the quiet of nature like worship;
it is as if, from the breathless heart of Things, went up a prayer or a
homage to the Arch-Creator. One feels subdued by a stillness so utter and
so august; it extends itself to our own sensations, and deepens into an
awe.

Both, then, looked on in silence, indulging it may be different thoughts.
At length, Lucilla said softly:--"Tell me, hast thou really no faith in my
father's creed? Are the stars quite dumb? Is there no truth in their
movements, no prophecy in their lustre?"

"My Lucilla, reason and experience tell us that the astrologers nurse a
dream that has no reality."

"Reason! well!--Experience!--why, did not thy father's mortal illness
hurry thee from home at the very time in which mine foretold thy departure
and its cause? I was then but a child; yet I shall never forget the
paleness of thy cheek when my father uttered his prediction."

"I, too, was almost a child then, Lucilla."

"But that prediction was verified?"

"It was so; but how many did Volktman utter that were never verified? In
true science there are no chances--no uncertainties."