the shadows of the primeval wilderness, and the light of the eternal
skies. His fancy dwelt upon some such nook as the enchanted home of
the fairy that possessed his soul. The place, though he never found it,
became real to him. As he pictured it, there rose sometimes from among
the lily-pads, stirring the translucent depths and fluttering over the
water's surface drops like gems, the wonderful form of a woman, with
pale leaves wreathed in her luxuriant red hair, and a skin which gave
forth light.

With the homecoming to Octavius, his dreams began to take more account
of realities. In a day or two he was wide awake, and thinking hard. The
kiss was as much as ever the ceaseless companion of his hours, but it no
longer insisted upon shrouding itself in vines and woodland creepers, or
outlining itself in phosphorescent vagueness against mystic backgrounds
of nymph-haunted glades. It advanced out into the noonday, and assumed
tangible dimensions and substance. He saw that it was related to the
facts of his daily life, and had, in turn, altered his own relations to
all these facts.

What ought he to do? What COULD he do? Apparently, nothing but wait.
He waited for a week--then for another week. The conclusion that the
initiative had been left to him began to take shape in his mind. From
this it seemed but a step to the passionate resolve to act at once.

Turning the situation over and over in his anxious thoughts, two things
stood out in special prominence. One was that Celia loved him. The other
was that the boy in Gorringe's law office, and possibly Gorringe, and
heaven only knew how many others besides, had reasons for suspecting
this to be true.