After it there would be darkness, death, what you will--parting from Margaret--all purely physical emotions.
The other Olva felt nothing physical.

The game, confession to Rupert, trial, imprisonment, even separation from Margaret, all these things were nothing in comparison with some great business that was in progress behind it all, as real life may go on behind the painted back cloth of a stage.

Here were amazing happenings, although at present he was confused and bewildered by them.

It was not that Olva was, actually, at the instant conscious of actual impressions, but rather that great emotions, great surprising happiness, seemed to shine on some horizon.

It was as though something had said to his soul, "Presently you will feel a joy, a splendour, that you had never in your wildest thoughts imagined." The pursuit was almost at an end.