sadness, and pathos as he looked up át her—the gloom of the low-shelving roof above and behind them, the light of the day falling on her and about her, through the hanging leaves, from the burning sun without.
"You like better the passion of the 'Gott und die Bajadere' poem? Well, so do I. It is nobler far. The god had faith in her, and, because he believed in her, saved her. Brave natures, defying scorn, may grow to merit scorn; but no brave nature ever yet was steeled and false to trust."
"And yours is brave to the death; wherefore, till death, I trust it."
His words were low, and sweet, and earnest grave with that depth of meaning and of feeling which made reverence, not less than pity, move her towards the only man who had ever stirred her either to compassion or to veneration, and which gave grandeur, force, and nobility to the love which, withont it, might have been but a madness of the heart, and a desire of the senses.
"False women vow, as well as true—I vow you nothing," she murmured to him; "but—I thank you beyond all words."
She did so thank him from her soul; she to whom this faith was precious as no other thing
