Now leave me, till to-morrow." "Till to-morrow," said Wilfrid faintly, casting a long glance at the being of whom he desired to carry with him an ineffaceable memory.
Though he wished to go far away, he was held, as it were, outside the house for some moments, watching the light which shone from all the windows of the Swedish dwelling.
"What is the matter with me ?" he asked himself.

"No, she is not a mere creature, but a whole creation.

Of her world, even through veils and clouds, I have caught echoes like the memory of sufferings healed, like the dazzling vertigo of dreams in which we hear the plaints of generations mingling with the harmonies of some higher sphere where all is Light and all is Love.

Am I awake?
Do I still sleep?
Are these the eyes before which the luminous space retreated further and further indefinitely while the eyes followed it?
The night is cold, yet my head is on fire.

I will go to the parsonage.