'It is indeed a relic,' said she, while placing it in the bosom of her dress.
'So—so,' said she, sadly, disengaging herself from his arms, 'our love has been sanctified by danger and death.'
'Great Heavens!' thought Carl, 'sorrow has turned her brain!'
'It has not,' she said; 'do not think so.'
'What is not? I did not speak,' said Carl.
'No, but you thought; and I know what you thought, and there is no living grace or glory like a love so sanctified as ours, Carl.'
He regarded her with a bewilderment not unmixed with alarm.
There was a strange wild and weird beauty in her pale face—a radiance in her eyes, a brightness all over her such as Charlie had never before witnessed.
Whence did it come? From the altar-lights?
They were too dim.