There was no harm in it all, none whatever, but-- Bah! The worst had come about; the miserable fate had declared itself; he was in love with Thyrza Trent! He entered the Abbey.

He seated himself in a shadowed place.

Alone?
Whose then was the voice that spoke to him unceasingly, and the hand which he was holding, which stirred his blood so with its warmth?
'Put aside every thought of the living fact; say that there is no Gilbert Grail in the world.

You and I--you, Thyrza, my sweet-eyed, my beautiful--sit here side by side and hold each other's hands.

Your voice has become very low and reverent, as befits the place, as befits the utterance of love such as this you say you bear me.