altar and lighting the antique mask of his ardent face--with his
awed, yet eager eyes burning upon hers--this was a different thing--one
quite new to her. She was startled by the throe of pitiful regret that
seized her. If only she had been different herself ... a young virgin
ready to receive this outpouring of virginal love.... What miracles
would have enfolded them ... what wonders of dawn-time ecstasy. She had
been mistaken. A face so beautiful could be only the symbol of a lovely
soul. And this soul was gazing at her from the timid passion of the dark
eyes, no longer bold, but infinitely, touchingly imploring. In
continuous, swift flashes, like the luminous particles from radium,
these thoughts showered from her mind, as she stood gazing down at him.

"I've heard of it.... I never believed.... Now I believe..." he was
stammering. "My soul's in your body.... Your beautiful body is more than
any soul to me.... I pray to you.... My soul in you prays to you...." He
caught up a bit of leafy clay that had adhered to her foot, and pressed
that also to his lips. "See...." he stammered on, "the dirt from your
shoe.... That's how I love you...."

And even this act did not make him seem ridiculous. But Sophy caught his
wrist, holding back his hand from his lips that trembled into a white,
half-smile.

"My dear...." she said, her own voice shaken. "My dear boy....
Please...."

She felt her words very stupid--inane.

"Come...." she said, pulling at the strong wrist to make him regain his
feet. He yielded to her touch and rose, standing tall and quivering
before her.

"Won't you even let me worship you?" he asked in a smothered voice.

"My dear, no ... be reasonable...."

It seemed to Sophy that she had never been at the mercy of such
banalities as her mind now offered.

He stared, his lip curling.

"Reasonable!"

"I mean...." Fitting words would _not_ come to her. "You forget...." she
said confusedly.

"What ... what do I forget?"

"My life ... what is past.... My life is over ... that part of life...."

"_Your_ life?... _Over?_..." He gazed at her so that her eyes wavered
from his. She could not help this. It distressed her to be standing
there before him in her short skirt, bare-headed, with eyes that would
not keep steady. She felt that he had the advantage of her out there in
those wide, still aisles of gold with their groining of dark branches.
It was as if he had her far from home, in his own haunts. Th