It came to him that
he had almost understood every time that he had looked at Olivia.
Ah, he thought, and how exquisite, how matchless she was, and what
Heaven beyond Heaven the world would hold for him if only she were
to love him. St. George lifted the little hand that hung at her
side, and stooped momentarily to touch his cheek to the soft hair
that swept her shoulder. Here for him lay the sweet of life--the
sweet of the world, ay, and the sweet of all the world's mysteries.
This alien land was no nearer the truth than he. His love was the
expression of its mystery. They went back through the great
archway, and entered the palace park. Once more the slim-trunked
trees flew past them with the fringes of light expressing the
borders of the dusk. St. George crouched, half-kneeling, on the
floor of the tonneau, his free hand protecting Olivia's face from
the leaning branches of heavy-headed flowers. He had been so
passionately anxious that she should know that he was on the island,
near her, ready to serve her; but now, save for his alarm and
anxiety about her, he felt a shy, profound gratitude that the hour
had fallen as it had fallen.
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