“It was better even than I expected, and that’s saying so much! It does one good to go to a service like that. It’s so big!”
“The—the Abbey?” queried Stephen vaguely, and Pixie gave a quick denial.
“No. No! Not only the building—everything! There’s an atmosphere of peace, and dignity, and calm. One gets away from littleness and quarrelling. It’s so sad when people quarrel about religion, and one sect disputes with another...”
“It is indeed,” replied Stephen, sighing. “The chances of conciliation would be so much greater if they fought with honey, not with gall. ... The world needs kindness—”
“Oh, it does! There is such sorrow, such pain!” Pixie’s voice rang suddenly sharp, and a wave of emotion flitted over her face. She raised her eyes to his, and said suddenly, in a voice of melting pathos: “Her face! ... That girl’s face! All these years I’ve never forgotten. ... It’s lain here!” She touched her heart with an eloquent finger. “All these years—every night—I’ve prayed that they might meet...” She shook her head with a determined gesture, as though shaking off a haunting thought. “I couldn’t forget, you see, because—it taught me ... things I had not understood—!”
“Yes,” said Stephen dully. For his life he could not have said another word. He waited with dread to hear the next words.
“But it was worth learning!” Pixie said bravely. “I was glad to learn. Love is such a big, big thing. When it is given to you it’s a big responsibility. You must not fail; nothing in the world must make you fail!”
Stephen said no word. The questions which had filled his brain for the last five days were answered now. There was no more room for doubt. Pixie O’Shaughnessy was ready and waiting to marry Stanor Vaughan at any time when it pleased him to come home and claim her promise.