flame in flame. Long
after he had parted from her, his senses ached as they recalled the
exquisite movements of her body. He had only to shut his eyes, and he
was aware of the little ripple of her shoulders and the delicate
swaying of her hips. To lie awake in the dark was to see her kneeling
at his side, to feel the fragrance of her thick braid of hair
flattened and warmed by her sleep, and the light touch of her hands as
they covered him. And before that memory his shame still burnt deeper
than his desire.

But this Lucia had no desire for him and no pity. Her countenance,
seen even in dreams, expressed a calm but immutable repugnance. No
wonder, for _she_ was only acquainted with the pitiably inadequate
sample of him introduced to her as Mr. Rickman of Rickman's. He was
aware that she belonged exclusively not only to Jewdwine's class, but
to Jewdwine himself in some way (a way unspeakably disagreeable to
contemplate). If he was not to think of her as enduring the
abominations of poverty, he must think of her as married to Jewdwine.
Married to Jewdwine, she would make an end of his friendship as she
had made an end of his peace of mind. There had been moments, at the
first, when he had felt a fierce and unforgiving rage against her for
the annoyance that she caused him.

But now, dividing the host of turbulent and tormenting memories, there
appeared a different Lucia, an invincible but intimate presence that
brought with it a sense of deliverance and consolation. It was Lucia
herself that saved him from Lucia. Her eyes were full of discernment
and of an infinite tenderness and compassion. They kindled in him the
desire that fulfils itself in its own utterance.

That this Lucia was not wholly the creature of his imagination he was
assured by his memory of certain passages in his life at Harmouth, a
memory that had all the vividness and insistence of the other. It was
the Lucia he had known before the other Lucia, the Lucia who had
divined and would divine him still. In a way she was more real than
the other, more real than flesh and blood, even as that part of him by
which he apprehended her was more real than the rest. From her he was
not and could not be divided; they belonged to each other, and by no
possibility could he think of this Lucia as married to Jewdwine, or of
his friendship for Jewdwine as in anyway affected by her. He was hers
by right of her perfect comprehension of him; for such comprehension
was o