The reflection of a greater thing claimed her and taught her, held her like a bayadere in a temple court.
As for Ian, he also held that he loved.

He was the Arab bound for the well for which he thirsted, single-minded as to that, and without much present consciousness of tarnish or sin....

But what might arise in his mind when his thirst was quenched?
Ian did not care, in these blissful days, to think of that.
He had come on the day of the storm, the cave, and the rainbow to a fatal place in his very long life.

He was upon very still, deep water, glasslike, with only vague threads and tremors to show what might issue in resistless currents.

He had been in such a place, in his planetary life, over and over and over again.