Our last hours at Seville were spent before all these works of sacred art, each of which has its own special revelation to the soul; and then we went to the cathedral. The day was nearly at an end. The chapels were all closed. The vast edifice was as silent as the grave, with only a few people here and there absorbed in their devotions. The upper western windows alone caught a few rays of the declining sun, empurpling the arches. The long aisles were full of gloom. We lingered awhile, like Murillo, before “Christ descending from the Cross,” and then went back to the _Fonda Europa_ with regret in our hearts. [2] Roelas’ masterpiece, the _Transito de San Isidoro_, in the church of that name, represents this solemn scene. The dying saint is on the steps of the altar, supported by two bishops, who look all the more venerable from contrast with the fresh bloom of the beautiful choir-boys behind; the multitude is swaying with grief through the long, receding aisles; and, in the opening heavens above, appear Christ and the Virgin, ready to receive him into the glory of which we catch a glimpse. It is a picture that can only be compared to Domenichino’s “Last Communion of St. Jerome.” SIX SUNNY MONTHS. BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE HOUSE OF YORKE,” “GRAPES AND THORNS,” ETC. CHAPTER IV.――CONTINUED. Mr. Bailey had finally, after some management, got Bianca quite to himself, and, discovering that they had mutual friends, and that she liked those parts of his writings which he considered the best, the two were quite over the threshold of a ceremonious acquaintance, and talking together very amicably. “You may stay to supper, if you will,” the Signora whispered to him. “But don’t say so, because I shall not ask any one else. Get yourself out of sight somewhere.” “Fly with me!” he said tragically to Bianca. “May we go to the _loggia_, Signora?” She nodded. “If you will watch the windows, and come in the instant I call you; and if that child will get something on the way to put over her head and shoulders.” The two stole out of the drawing-rooms with all the merry pleasure of children playing a prank. “Stop a moment!” the young man said when they reached the _sala_. “See how this room, almost encircled by brightly-lighted chambers, looks like the old moon in the new moon’s arms. Isn’t it pretty?”