‘Physically, I have never before seen thee. These material, and natural mirrors of the human brain have never until now reflected thine image on their surface; nevertheless, I have gazed on thee through the medium of my soul-sight, and have drank in the delight of thy beauty. ‘I have looked into thy very soul, and read its inmost workings—thy beautiful unsullied soul, clear as the limpid waters. ‘Thy thought is no longer thine own; it is MINE, by the gift of DIVINE LOVE! Yea, thou art mine, and I am thine!’ Swami gave utterance to his passionate ecstasy as one in a dream, where the faculties being highly exalted create sensations of the most delightful character. His face, beautiful in feature, and spiritual in expression at all times, was now irradiated with the glowing fire of love. This new emotion filled him with a subtle rapture, imparting to him a new fervour that lent a charm to every look and motion. His dreamy eyes had turned intensely brilliant, their excitement spreading to every muscle of the face, imparted over all his countenance a delicious softness, that instantly set every nerve in Mercia’s frame a-throbbing. To her, as to him, it was indeed, a supreme moment, making her dumb by reason of its intensity, as of its suddenness and power. Her countenance was overspread with the warm glow of the unseen, mystic force, while her bosom heaved with tumultuous emotions. Speechless she sat, with downcast eyes, lost in a silent joy, while delicious sensations that were entirely new to her, thrilled her whole frame. ‘Is this then LOVE!’ she exclaimed at length; while a tone of ineffable tenderness pervaded her utterance, making her voice low, soft, and melodious. ‘Am I then too, a victim to this conqueror of the world—a prisoner bound in sweet captivity, with not the faintest wish to cast away my fetters? Is this that strange and subtle power that guides and shapes the destinies of the whole world; whose dominion the strongest bow to, whose sceptre sways over prince and peasant?’ ‘Even so, sweet Mercia, this is love. This is that which the Gods gave to sweeten the labours of mankind: for who could bear the burden of life from birth to death without this gracious comfort to sustain him?’ answered Swami, as moving nearer to her side he took her hand in his, and covered it with passionate kisses. ‘I had thought,’ she murmured in a low voice ‘that love was not for me; that my life should be devoted to my work. That the honour attained by the close fulfilment of my duties would be ample reward. ‘My ambition was to endeavour to be the best astronomer the world has ever seen. But now this dream has passed away, I am even as other women, who love and are beloved, and seek no more.’ ‘My beloved, this is the sum of life’s happiness. Without love life is a mere wilderness. He who goes through life unloved and unloving has wasted his existence.