This thrilled her with an ache of mother-pity. She saw him misunderstood,
unhappy, and instantly her heart wrapped him about with protection. In
that moment his faults were all condoned--she saw them only as the fruits
of his loneliness.

Later, "Mary," he said, "yours is the most beautiful of all names. Poets
and painters have glorified it in every age, but none as I shall do"; and
he kissed her adoringly.

Again, he held his cheek to hers. "Beloved," he whispered, "when we are
married" (even as he spoke he marveled at himself that the word should
come so naturally) "I want to paint you as you really are--a goddess of
beauty and love."

She thrilled in response to him, half fearful, yet exalted. She was his,
utterly.

As they clung together he saw her winged, a white flame of love, a
goddess elusive even in yielding. He aspired, and saw her, Cytheria-like,
shining above yet toward him. But her vision, leaning on his heart, was
of those two still and close together, nestling beneath Love's protecting
wings, while between their hands she felt the fingers of a little child.




VII


That night Mary and Stefan spoke only of love, but the morning brought