She was as innocent as a child of their meaning, but it was almost as if she were fulfilling in some way a law of her nature as a maid and drifting blindly towards the dawn of Love.

Never did she think of Love, but it was just as if Love were always thinking of her; it was even as if the spirit of Love were hovering over her constantly, and she were walking in the way of its outstretched wings.
Israel saw this, and it set him to chasing day-dreams that were like the drawing up of a curtain.

A beautiful phantom of Naomi's future would rise up before him.

Love had come to her.

The great mystery! the rapture, the blissful wonder, the dear, secret, delicious palpitating joy.