Here, crystallized, were the things that men almost know, the dream
that has just escaped every one, the whisper in sleep that would
have explained if one could remember when one woke, the word that
has been thrillingly flashed to one in moments of absorption and has
fled before one might catch the sound, the far hope of science, the
glimpse that comes to dying eyes and is voiced in fragments by dying
lips. Here without penetrating the great reserve or tracing any
principle to its beginning, was the truth about both. And St. George
was powerless to receive it.
He turned fearfully to Olivia. Ah--what if she did not guess
anything of the meaning of what she was hearing? For one instant he
knew all the misery of one whose friend stands on another star. But
when he saw her uplifted face, her eager eyes and quick breath and
her look divinely questioning his, he was certain that though she
might not read the figures of the veil, yet she too knew how near,
how near they Stood; and to be with her on this side was
dearer--nay, was nearer the Secret--than without her to pass the
veil that they touched.
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