eldom you have spoken of such things--why?" she asked, moved
in her turn and amazed.

"Because from the first I made up my mind I would not have it, except
in your own way and in your own time. I knew the essence of it was in
you. For the rest--I preferred to wait till you were ready--Sita Devi."

"Nevil--lord of me!" She slipped to her knees beside him. "I _am_ ready.
But oh, you wicked, how _could_ I know that all the time you were caring
that much in your secret heart."

He gathered her close and said not a word.

So the great matter was settled, with no outward fuss or formalities.
She would be baptized before Roy came home for the Easter holidays and
his confirmation.

"But not here--not Mr Sale," she pleaded. "Let us go away quietly to
London--we two. Let it be in that great Church, where first the thought
was born in my heart that some day ... this might be."

He could refuse her nothing. Jeffrey might feel aggrieved when he knew.
But after all--this was their own affair. Time enough afterwards to let
in the world and its thronging notes of exclamation.

Roy was told when he came home. For imparting such intimate news, she
craved the response of his living self. And if Nevil's satisfaction
struck a deeper note, it was simply that Roy was very young and had
always included her Hindu-ness in the natural order of things.

Wonderful days! Preparing the children, with Helen's help; preparing
herself, in the quiet of her "House of Gods"--a tiny room above the
studio--in much the same spirit as she had prepared for the great
consecration of marriage, with vigil and meditation and unobtrusive
fasting--noted by Nevil, though he said no word.

Crowning wonder of all, that golden Easter morning of her first
Communion with Roy and Tara, with Nevil and Helen:--unfolding of heart
and spirit, of leaf and blossom; dual miracle of a world new made....

END OF PHASE I.

PHASE II.

THE VISIONARY GLEAM

CHAPTER I.

"Youth is lifted on Wings of his strong hope and soaring valour;
for his thoughts are above riches."--PINDAR.

Oxford on a clear, still evening of June: silver reaches of Isis and
Cher; meadows pied with moon daisies and clover, and the rose madder
bloom of ripe grasses; the trill of unseen birds tuning up for evensong;
the passing and repassing of boats and canoes and punts, gay with
cushions and summer frocks; all bathed in the level radiance that steals
over earth like a p