As he spoke, long shafts of pale, golden light shot through the openings
between the high-standing trees of the eastern woodland, and lay in
misty radiance along the dewy lawns, touching the heads of the
cypresses, and flashing upon the upspringing waters of the fountains.
"Ah, have patience--but a little trifle of patience yet, dearest love,"
Agnes Rivers pleaded. "Only wait, and that which is to be will surely
declare itself. I would so gladly stay--or gladly take you with me,
going; but I can do neither, though why, I do not at present fully
comprehend."
She turned, and for a moment stood facing the sunlight, bright in its
royal brightness, looking out on the fair, summer landscape, an infinite
hope and yearning in her lovely face. Then she folded her hands high
upon her bosom--slightly ruffling the smooth surface of her dainty,
muslin cape--bowed her head meekly as in worship, and moved away. As she
passed, Laurence--standing a little behind her--for the first time heard
the soft sound of her rapid footfall, and the whisper of her silken
gown.
The young man, too, worshipped the rising sun after his manner--a
manner, it must be admitted, by no means of the meekest. The room was
empty, but he did not greatly care, for his great purpose seemed so
close upon consummation. The crisis was very near now. Before that
splendid, June sun rose to-morrow--so he told himself--his work would be
complete. She was so nearly human, his dear fairy-lady; her pure spirit
so strangely, yet sensibly, in process of clothing itself with sweet,
living flesh. He would set bread and wine before her, in the small hours
when this bright day was dead. She should eat and drink of a sacramental
feast, designed to secure, not eternal life to the soul, in this case,
but mortal life to the beautiful, young body which he so desired and
loved.
Thus did Laurence Rivers hail the sunrise, filled with an immense pride
of his own action, his own will, and the powers of his race, deeming
himself a worker of miracles and equal of the immortal gods.
XXII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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