He did not know that she was quoting, and he did not answer her or speak at all for some time. But at last he said: “So I slept, because you saw me in the Divine Consciousness; is that it?” “Something like that.” “You didn’t will that I should sleep?” “Oh, no.” “Are you doing it still?” “Yes.” “Every night?” “Yes,” said Elizabeth again. David sat up. The mists in the valley beneath were golden, for the sun had dropped. As he looked, the gold turned grey, and the shadow of darkness to come rose out of the valley’s depths, though the hill-slope on which they sat was warm and sunny yet. David turned and saw that Elizabeth was watching him. “I want you to stop whatever it is you do,” he said abruptly. “Very well.” “I’m not as ungrateful as that sounds—” He broke off, and Elizabeth said quickly: “Oh, no.” “You don’t think it?” “Why should I? You are well again. You don’t need my help any more.” A shadow like the shadow of evening came over her as she spoke, but her smile betrayed nothing. They walked back to the hotel in silence. David had wondered if he would sleep. He slept all night, the sweet sound sleep of health and a mind unburdened. It was Elizabeth who did not sleep. She had walked with him through the valley of the shadow and he had come out of it a whole man again. Was she to cling to the shadow, because in the shadow David had clung to her? It came to that. She drove the thought home, and did not shirk the pain of it. They were come out into the light, and in the light he had no need of her. But this was not full daylight in which they walked—it was only the first chill grey of the dawn, and there is always a need of Love. Love needs must give, and giving, blesses and is blessed, for Love is of the realities—a thing immutable and all-pervading. No man can shut out Love. CHAPTER XVII THE DREAM My hand has never touched your hand, I have not seen your face, No sound of any spoken word has passed between us two— Yet night by night I come to you in some unearthly place, And all my dreams of day and night are dreams of love and you. The moon has never shone on us together in our sleep, The sun has never seen us kiss beneath the arch of day, Your eyes have never looked in mine—your soul has looked so deep, That all the sundering veils of sense are drawn and done away. My lids are sealed with more than sleep, but I am lapped in light, Your soul draws near, and yet more near, till both our souls are one, In that strange place of our content is neither day nor night, No end and no beginning, whilst the timeless æons run. David came home after his month’s holiday as hard and healthy as a man may be. Elizabeth was well content. She and David were friends. He liked her company, he ate and slept, he was well, and he laughed sometimes as the old David had laughed.