At last, when within a pace or two, she raised her eyes and recognized Kenyon.
"It is you!" she exclaimed, with joyful surprise.

"I am so happy." In truth, the sculptor had never before seen, nor hardly imagined, such a figure of peaceful beatitude as Hilda now presented.

While coming towards him in the solemn radiance which, at that period of the day, is diffused through the transept, and showered down beneath the dome, she seemed of the same substance as the atmosphere that enveloped her.

He could scarcely tell whether she was imbued with sunshine, or whether it was a glow of happiness that shone out of her.
At all events, it was a marvellous change from the sad girl, who had entered the confessional bewildered with anguish, to this bright, yet softened image of religious consolation that emerged from it.

It was as if one of the throng of angelic people, who might be hovering in the sunny depths of the dome, had alighted on the pavement.