looked up--that wild shyness still
in his subdued eyes.... His hand slipped from her hair upon her neck. He
knelt up and his quivering hand drew her gently towards him....

"This once ... only this once...." he pleaded, whispering ... "to
remember all my life.... I will shut my eyes.... Selene.... You can
think that I am sleeping ... as on Latmos...."

That thrall held Sophy--that and some wild, half-lawless romance in her
own nature. It was as though reason forsook her. A veil woven of wind
and firelight and the soft dreaminess of youthful passion floated
between her and reality--shut her in from past and future--filmed about
her like the pale smoke from an enchanter's fire.... She let herself be
drawn towards that eager flower of the young, thirsty mouth. Nearer ...
nearer.... Far, far away, a fine, chill voice said: "No. This you must
not do...."

She heard it as the fainting hear their names called. An instant--then
the young lips touched hers--delicately--clung trembling.... A thrill as
in dreams--unreal, etherealised--ran through her.... This kiss was
divine. Like nectar this kiss was to them both--long, miraculous, and
mystically impassioned, as a kiss on the wild moors of elf-land....

When they came to themselves, they were leaning cheek to cheek, hand in
hand, gazing into the fire which had glowed down to molten jewels. The
wind harped round the quiet house, now low, now loud. A mouse, darting
like a wee, grey fish, along the wainscoting, grew ever bolder.
Presently he scampered across the train of Sophy's gown--then played
upon the hearth-rug. The collie twitched his ruffled legs nervously as
he lay sleeping. But those two did not move. For long, long minutes they
sat there motionless, cheek to cheek, hand in hand, gazing into the
fire....

IX

Before Loring went away, an hour later, he put a fresh log on the fire,
smiling up at her shyly, as he knelt to do so.

"I'll mend the altar fire in your temple before I go, Selene," he had
murmured.

He felt strangely subdued and awed after the wonder of that kiss. The
enchantment that was over them held awe for them both. There was in it
something mystic--an influence blowing, as it were, from home-lands of
the soul dimly remembered. Sophy felt this consciously--Loring
unconsciously. But he felt things through her, since that kiss. There
had been between them during that long-blossoming kiss a transfusion of
spirit. She was through and through him