“I don’t want that. But any time I can help you—hail out! What are you going to do—stopping off here?”
She threw a kiss to him, but did not answer. The traders were far ahead, and the Boy turned his back.
“The world has gone,” Noreen said, after they had walked long through a tangled way. “Look below.”
“Yes—the Leper Valley—our bravest man!”
It was mid-afternoon. Routledge paused at the verge of a steep declivity, and they saw a radiant hollow evenly rimmed by mountains on every side. A lake gleamed at the bottom of this finger-bowl of the Gods, and moist tropical perfumes were borne softly upward with a far sound of bells—faint as the tinkle of drops of water falling upon thin metal.
And together they went down into the fragrance. Noreen could feel her heart; she could feel her soul; and too there was an enchanting beauty in this delve of the world. It sustained. It was so wonderful—like a child laughing alone in paradise! There was a sound of chimes in the vast silence, and God seemed to speak above.
The thatches below were trimmed and even. There were spaces between them, and from the heights these spaces had the clean look of a brown polished floor. There was depth and purity in the green of the lake, and the little temple, in the midst of its gardens, was white as Truth.
They were in a swept and shaded village. The woman was walking swiftly, her lips parted, her eyes feverishly bright. Routledge laughed quietly at her ardor to see the man whom his heart knew to be there and always waiting. The huts seemed deserted, except for those who could not leave.
A voice reached them at last—the voice that had echoed through the inner consciousness of each so long.... His back was toward them. The people upon the earth before him, they did not see—save as factors of the scene. Swiftly they moved forward now.