ge of the
surrender he was making in each silent minute. For she was his now, if
he told her, if he broke faith, if he claimed the right that was his.

Now in this golden hour he would win if he spoke, sweeping aside the
shadowy intervening form of the other with the relentless persistent
truth of the faith that was in him, a faith that had no ground in
personal vanity or individual pride, but was only the recognition of a
great Fact that lay outside and beyond them both, that named Patricia
forever his in a world where the Real is disentangled from the
Appearance.

Was life to consist, for him, in a relinquishing of his own rights in
conformity to the Law of Appearance? Was it but a cowardly fear of
convention that held him back from claiming her now on the verge of
the world? Or was it a deeper, half-understood trust of the Great
Realities of Life, a knowledge that faith, integrity, and honour are
no conventions, but belong to Real World of Truth, and that he could
snatch no joy of life over their trampled forms? He tried dimly to
understand these things, to gauge the nature of the forces that
controlled him, but he never doubted what force would claim his
obedience. It was already habitual to him by reason of training and
instinct to set such Laws of Life as he recognised before his own
will. But that will was very clamorous this evening as he pressed the
hot yellow whin-flowers to his face drinking their fragrance into his
thirsty soul.

When he raised his eyes he looked out at sea and sky and avoided the
dear sweet face above him. She still sat smiling out into the serene
space, watching as it were the random thoughts of her subconscious
self floating in those ethereal realms. It was almost too great a
happiness for peace, the fair world, the comprehending companion, who
understood without the clumsy medium of words, and the love awaiting
her on the morrow. She did not wish for Geoffry's presence now, she
was perfectly content that he stood in the beautiful morrow, that he
was bringing her a good and precious crown to the golden days of her
youth.

She sighed out of pure joy and so broke the spell of the golden and
blue-cloaked silence which had reigned. Without moving she gathered a
handful of whin blooms and scattered them over the brown head at her
feet, a baptism of golden fire. He shook them off and looked up at
her, laughing.

"Asleep, I believe, Christopher, you lazy person. What were you
dreaming ab