other half of life, but a phaen is the whole of life. Moreover, when
life becomes split into halves, something else has dropped out of it--
something that belongs only to the whole. Between your love and
mine there is no comparison. If even your sluggish blood is drawn to
Faceny, without stopping to ask what will come of it, how do you
suppose it is with me?"

"I don't question the genuineness of your passion," replied Maskull,
"but it's a pity you can't see your way to carry it forward into the
next world."

Leehallfae gave a distorted grin, expressing heaven knows what
emotion. "Men think what they like, but phaens are so made that they
can see the world only as it really is."

That ended the conversation.

The sun was high in the sky, and they appeared to be approaching the
head of the ravine. Its walls had still further closed in and,
except at those moments when Branchspell was directly behind them,
they strode along all the time in deep shade; but still it was
disagreeably hot and relaxing. All life had ceased. A beautiful,
fantastic spectacle was presented by the cliff faces, the rocky
ground, and the boulders that choked the entire width of the gorge.
They were a snow-white crystalline limestone, heavily scored by veins
of bright, gleaming blue. The rivulet was no longer green, but a
clear, transparent crystal. Its noise was musical, and altogether it
looked most romantic and charming, but Leehallfae seemed to find
something else in it--aer features grew more and more set and
tortured.