At these words uttered with so much sorrowful meaning, a quick thrill stirred Alwyn's blood, an inexplicable sharp thrill, that was like the touch of scorching flame. He gazed at her perplexedly … his pride resented what he imagined to be the deception practiced upon him, but at the same time he was not insensible to the weird romance of the situation.
He began to consider that as this fair girl, trained so admirably in mystical speech and manner, had evidently been sent on purpose to meet him, he could scarcely be blamed for taking her as she presented herself, and enjoying to the full a thoroughly novel and picturesque adventure.
His eyes flashed as he surveyed her standing there before him, utterly unprotected and at his mercy—his old, languid, skeptical smile played on his proud lips,—that smile of the marble Antinous which says "Bring me face to face with Truth itself and I shall still doubt!".. An expression of reluctant admiration and awakening passion dawned on his countenance, … he was about to speak,—when she whose looks were fastened on him with intense, powerful, watchful, anxious entreaty, suddenly wrung her hands together as though in despair, and gave vent to a desolate sobbing cry that smote him to the very heart.
"Theos! Theos!" and her voice pealed out on the breathless air in sweet, melodious, broken echoes.. "Oh, my unfaithful Beloved, what can I do for thee! A love unseen thou wilt not understand,—a love made manifest thou wilt not recognize! Alas!—my journey is in vain … my errand hopeless! For while thine unbelief resists my pleading, how can I lead thee from danger into safety? … how bridge the depths between our parted souls? … how win for thee pardon and blessing from Christ the King!"
Bright tears filled her eyes and fell fast and thick through her long, drooping lashes, and Alwyn, smitten with remorse at the sight of such grief, sprang to her side overcome by shame, love, and penitence.
"Weeping? … and for me?"—he exclaimed—"Sweet Edris! … Gentlest of maidens! … Weep not for one unworthy, . . but rather smile and speak again of love! …" and now his words pouring forth impetuously, seemed to utter themselves independently of any previous thought,—"Yes! speak only of love,—and the discourse of those tuneful lips shall be my gospel, . . the glance of those, soft eyes my creed, . . and as for pardon and blessing I crave none but thine! I sought a Dream.. I have found a fair Reality … a living proof of Love's divine omnipotence! Love is the only god—who would doubt his sovereignty, or grudge him his full measure of worship? … Not I, believe me!"—and carried away by the force of a resistless inward fervor, he threw himself once more at her feet—"See!—here do I pay my vows at Love's high altar!—heart's desire shall be the prayer—heart's ecstasy the praise! … together we will celebrate our glad service of love, and heaven itself shall sanctify this Eve of St. Edris and All Angels!"
She listened,—looking down upon him with grave, half timid tenderness,—her tears dried, and a sudden hope irradiated her fair face with a soft, bright flush, as lovely as the light of morning falling on newly opened flowers. When he ceased, she spoke—her accents breaking through the silence like clear notes of music sweetly sung.
"So be it!" she said … "May Heaven truly sanctify all pure thoughts, and free the soul of my Beloved from sin!"
And slowly bending forward, as a delicate iris-blossom bends to the sway of the wind, she laid her hands about his neck, and touched his lips with her own…
Ah! … what divine ecstasy,—what wild and fiery transport filled him then! … Her kiss, like a penetrating lighting-flash, pierced to the very centre of his being,—the moonbeams swam round him in eddying circles of gold—the white field heaved to and fro, … he caught her waist and clung to her, and in the burning marvel of that moment he forget everything, save that, whether spirit or mortal, she was in woman's witching shape, and that all the glamour of her beauty was his for this one night at least, . . this night which now in the speechless, glorious delirium of love that overwhelmed him, seemed like the Mahometan's night of Al-Kadr, "better than a thousand months!"