ineau, for example. A vain man, fussy, timid--and yet
filled with a passion for truth, ready to make great sacrifices and to
toil tremendously for that. And in those men I am always cursing,
my Committee, it is astonishing at times to discover what streaks of
goodness even the really bad men can show.... But one can't make use
of just anyone's divinity. I can see the divinity in Martineau but it
leaves me cold. He tired me and bored me.... But I live on you. It's
only through love that the God can reach over from one human being to
another. All real love is a divine thing, a reassurance, a release of
courage. It is wonderful enough that we should take food and drink and
turn them into imagination, invention and creative energy; it is still
more wonderful that we should take an animal urging and turn it into a
light to discover beauty and an impulse towards the utmost achievements
of which we are capable. All love is a sacrament and all lovers are
priests to each other. You and I--"

Sir Richmond broke off abruptly. "I spent three days trying to tell this
to Dr. Martineau. But he wasn't the priest I had to confess to and the
words wouldn't come. I can confess it to you readily enough...."

"I cannot tell," said Miss Grammont, "whether this is the last wisdom in
life or moonshine. I cannot tell whether I am thinking or feeling; but
the noise of the water going over the weir below is like the stir in
my heart. And I am swimming in love and happiness. Am I awake or am I
dreaming you, and are we dreaming one another? Hold my hand--hold it
hard and tight. I'm trembling with love for you and all the world.... If
I say more I shall be weeping."

For a long time they stood side by side saying not a word to one
another.

Presently the band down below and the dancing ceased and the little
lights were extinguished. The silent moon seemed to grow brighter and
larger and the whisper of the waters louder. A crowd of young people
flowed out of the gardens and passed by on their way home. Sir Richmond
and Miss Grammont strolled through the dispersing crowd and over the
Toll Bridge and went exploring down a little staircase that went down
from the end of the bridge to the dark river, and then came back to
their old position at the parapet looking upon the weir and the Pulteney
Bridge. The gardens that had been so gay were already dark and silent as
they returned, and the streets echoed emptily to the few people who were
still abroad.