She does not reject his love, but will wholly accept it only on these impossible terms. Herself dwells in some "magic hall" whence ray forth shafts of coloured light--crimson, purple, yellow; and along these shafts, which symbolise experience, her lover is to travel--coming back to her at close of each wayfaring, for the rays end before her feet, beneath her eyes and smile, as they began. He goes forth in obedience; he comes back. Ever the issue is the same: he comes back smirched. And she--forgives him, but not loves him. "What means the sad slow silver smile above My clay but pity, pardon?--at the best But acquiescence that I take my rest, Contented to be clay?" She "smiles him slow forgiveness"--nothing more; he is dismissed, must travel forth again. _This_ time he may return, untinged by the ray which he is to traverse. She sends him, deliberately; he must break through the quintessential whiteness that surrounds her--but he is to come back unsmirched. So she pitilessly, for all her "pity," has decreed. And patient, mute, obedient, always he has gone--until this day. This day his patience fails him, and he speaks. Once more he had come back--once more been "pardoned." But the pity was so gentle--like a moon-beam. He had almost hoped the smile would pass the "pallid moonbeam limit," be "transformed at last to sunlight and salvation." If she could pass that goal and "gain love's birth," he scarce would know his clay from gold's own self; "for gold means love." . . . But no; the "sad slow silver smile" had meant, as ever, naught but pity, pardon, acquiescence in his lesserness for _him_. _She_ acquiesced not; she keeps her love for the "spirit-seven" before God's throne.[291:1] He then made one supreme appeal for "Love, the love sole and whole without alloy." Vainly! Such an appeal "must be felt, not heard." Her calm regard was unchanged--nay, rather it had grown harsh and hard, had seemed to imply disdain, repulsion, and he could not face those things; he rose from his kissing of her feet--he _did_ go forth again. This time he might return, immaculate, from the path of that "lambent flamelet." . . . He knew he could not, but--he _might_! She promises that he can: should he not trust her? * * * * * And now, to-day, once more he is returned. Still she stands, still she listens, still she smiles! But he protests at last: "Surely I had your sanction when I faced, Fared forth upon that untried yellow ray Whence I retrack my steps?"