"And the very tresses shared in the pleasure, Moving to the mystic measure, Bounding as the bosom bounded." He stopped short, perplexed, "as she listened and she listened." But all at once he felt himself struck by the self-same contagion: "And I kept time to the wondrous chime, Making out words and prose and rhyme, Till it seemed that the music furled Its wings like a task fulfilled, and dropped From under the words it first had propped." He could hear and understand, "word took word as hand takes hand"--and the Gipsy said: "And so at last we find my tribe, And so I set thee in the midst . . . I trace them the vein and the other vein That meet on thy brow and part again, Making our rapid mystic mark; And I bid my people prove and probe Each eye's profound and glorious globe Till they detect the kindred spark In those depths so dear and dark . . . And on that round young cheek of thine I make them recognise the tinge . . . For so I prove thee, to one and all, Fit, when my people ope their breast, To see the sign, and hear the call, And take the vow, and stand the test Which adds one more child to the rest-- When the breast is bare and the arms are wide, And the world is left outside." There would be probation (said the Gipsy), and many trials for the lady if she joined the tribe; but, like the jewel-finder's "fierce assay" of the stone he finds, like the "vindicating ray" that leaps from it: "So, trial after trial past, Wilt thou fall at the very last Breathless, half in trance With the thrill of the great deliverance, Into our arms for evermore; And thou shalt know, those arms once curled About thee, what we knew before, _How love is the only good in the world_. Henceforth be loved as heart can love, Or brain devise, or hand approve! Stand up, look below, It is our life at thy feet we throw To step with into light and joy; Not a power of life but we employ To satisfy thy nature's want." The Gipsy said much more; she showed what perfect mutual love and understanding can do, for "if any two creatures grow into one, they will do more than the world has done"--and the tribe will at least approach that end with this beloved woman. She says not _how_--whether by one man's loving her to utter devotion of himself, or by _her_ giving "her wondrous self away," and taking the stronger nature's sway. . . . "I foresee and I could foretell Thy future portion, sure and well; But those passionate eyes speak true, speak true, Let them say what thou shalt do!" But whatever she does, the eyes of her tribe will be upon her, with their blame, their praise: "Our shame to feel, our pride to show, Glad, angry--but indifferent, no!"