"But your incentive—I don't understand—in such an hour?"
"A very simple, very old, but very powerful one, I'm beginning to think, the source of all human progress—the determination to build a home here in one of these flower-robed hills overlooking the sea, and bring my bride to it some glorious day like this when every tree is festooned with joy! I don't want a modest cottage. My bride was born a queen. Every line of her delicate and sensitive face proclaims her royal ancestry. She shall have a palace. Love, Beauty, Music, Art, and Truth shall be her servants. I shall be the magician who will create all this out of the dirt men are now trampling under foot along the beach."
Barbara drew a deep breath, trembled, and looked away.
"I promised her never to speak of love again until her own dear lips called me, and I will not, though I fear sometimes the waiting seems long."
"And if she never calls?" the girl asked, dreamily.
"Then my palace shall remain silent and empty. Her hand alone can open its doors."
"And if I do not see you often while your palace is building, you may know at least I have not forgotten—and you will understand?"
"Yes, I will understand," he answered, with elation.