He was not quite sure whether she were going to accept that gift, whether she would hesitate to take from his profane hands a thing so sacred and so supreme.

He was aware that his fate somehow hung on her acceptance, and he waited in silence, lest a word should destroy the work of love in her.
Anne, too (when she could detach her mind from the crucifix), felt that the moment was decisive.

To accept that gift, of all gifts, was to lay her spirit under obligation to him.

It was more than a surrender of body, heart, or mind.

It was to admit him to association with the unspeakably sacred acts of prayer and adoration.
If it were possible that that had been his desire; if he had meant his gift as a tribute, not to her only, but to the spirit of holiness in her; if, in short, he had been serious, then, indeed, she could not hesitate.
For, if it were so, her prayer was answered.
She laid down the crucifix and turned to him.