; and there have been great historic love-stories to prove such
love a possibility of human hearts; yet, alas! for the experiment that
must so often fail, for the weak wills of loving that will so truly and
yet must loose their holds,--the fire that promised itself food in
memory for a thousand years, but needs the sensual fuel of sight and
touch after all; the love that believed it could go on trusting through
centuries of silence, yet dies at last of little earthly doubts!

For this tremendous fast which you are to make believe a feast, trust in
each other is the one condition that may avail. This trust must come of
no mere exchange of vow or deeply-sworn and eloquent promise; it must be
knowledge one heart of the other, clear and absolute; and such knowledge
in your short hour of revelation you must have learned so passionately
that, like poetry learnt in childhood, it is henceforth no longer a
forgettable, detachable part of your mind's furniture, but a well-spring
of instinct for ever. Is your lady true? You will ask that only when you
ask: Is she beautiful?

Such confidence as this is comparatively common in friendship, but it
is very rare in love: whether it was to be justified in the case of
Isabel and Theophil, time alone could show. Meanwhile they felt calm and
happy, as only two can feel who have discovered in each other the one
unchanging reality in a world of flowing shadow.

It was very wonderful, in quite a new way, to meet again. Their love was
no longer hunger and unrest, it had gained the impassioned peace of
great accepted realities. It was married love now. As the quiet firm
hands held each other again, there seemed to be long retrospects of
tried and tender intercourse in their very touch. Their eyes held a past
in them as well as a future. There was no hurry of the emotions now, no
reason for haste in the seeking and giving of tenderness, no need to
snatch and clutch the good gifts of love as though there was but a short
day for the giving. Their love had grown conscious of its eternity.

It held but one lasting sadness,--that it might not be revealed to
Jenny. So little did they regard their love as one essentially for
concealment, that the temptation to include Jenny in their bond was at
moments a danger. It was so beautiful, and actually, though
unconsciously, she was so integral a part of its beauty.

Theirs was that dream of a threefold union, in which, so to say,
jealousy shall be so take