aid, as she recalled the
arguments he had used. The scene of this last conversation passed and
repassed in vanishing gleams--Bopart on the Rhine. They had stopped
there on their way to Bayreuth, where she was going to sing Elsa. The
maidens and their gold, the fire-surrounding Brunnhilde, the death of
the hero, the end of the legends: these she knew, but of "Parsifal" she
knew nothing--the story or the music. The time was propitious for him to
tell it. The flame of the candle burnt in the still midnight, and she
had listened with bated breath. She could see Owen leaning forward,
telling the story, and she could even see her own listening face as he
related how the poor fool rises through sanctification of faith and
repudiation of doubt, how he heals the sick king with the sacred spear
and becomes himself the high priest of the Grail. It had seemed to
Evelyn that she had been carried beyond the limits of earthly things.
The thrill and shiver of the dead man's genius haunted the liquid ripple
of the river; the moment was ecstatic; the deep, windless night was full
of the haunting ripple of the Rhine. And she remembered how she had
clasped her hands ... her very words came back to her....

"It is wonderful ... and we are listening to the Rhine; we shall never
forget this midnight."

At that moment the Sanctus bell rang, and she remembered why she had
stayed in church. She wished to discover what remnant, tatter or shred
of her early faith still clung about her. She wished to put her
agnosticism to the test. She wondered if at the moment of consecration
she would be compelled to bow her head. The bell rang again.... She grew
tremulous with expectation. She strove to refrain, but her head bowed a
little, and her thoughts expanded into prayer; she was not sure that she
actually prayed, for her thoughts did not divide into explicit words or
phrases. There certainly followed a beautiful softening of her whole
being, the bitterness of life extinguished; divine eyes seemed bent upon
her, and she was in the midst of mercy, peace and love; and daring no
longer to think she did not believe, she sat rapt till Mass was ended.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Still under the sweet influence of the church and the ceremony she got
into her carriage. But the mystery engendered in her soul seemed to fade
and die in the sunshine; she could almost perceive it going out like a
gentle, evanescent mist on the surface of a pool; she remembered that