‘Perhaps it is the twilight hour,’ said Eva, with a faint smile. ‘It sometimes makes one sad.’
‘There is no sadness where there is sympathy,’ said Tancred, in a low voice. ‘I have been, I am sad, when I am alone: but when I am with you, my spirit is sustained, and would be, come what might.’
‘And yet——’ said Eva; and she paused.
‘And what?’
‘Your feelings cannot be what they were before all this happened; when you thought only of a divine cause, of stars, of angels, and of our peculiar and gifted land. No, no; now it is all mixed up with intrigue, and politics, and management, and baffled schemes, and cunning arts of men. You may be, you are, free from all this, but your faith is not the same. You no longer believe in Arabia.’
‘Why, thou to me art Arabia,’ said Tancred, advancing and kneeling at her side. ‘The angel of Arabia, and of my life and spirit! Talk not to me of faltering faith: mine is intense. Talk not to me of leaving a divine cause: why, thou art my cause, and thou art most divine! O Eva! deign to accept the tribute of my long agitated heart! Yes, I too, like thee, am sometimes full of despair; but it is only when I remember that I love, and love, perhaps, in vain!’
He had clasped her hand; his passionate glance met her eye, as he looked up with adoration to a face infinitely distressed. Yet she withdrew not her hand, as she murmured, with averted head, ‘We must not talk of these things; we must not think of them. You know all.’
‘I know of nothing, I will know of nothing, but of my love.’
‘There are those to whom I belong; and to whom you belong. Yes,’ she said, trying to withdraw her hand, ‘fly, fly from me, son of Europe and of Christ!’
‘I am a Christian in the land of Christ,’ said Tancred, ‘and I kneel to a daughter of my Redeemer’s race. Why should I fly?’