Yet, if ever his heart might have dwelt upon a woman with thought of the
future, this being before him--he drew himself up with a start! . . . He
was going to Egypt again in a few days; they might probably never meet
again--would not, no doubt--should not. He had pressed her husband to go
to Egypt, but now he would not encourage it; he must "finish his journey
alone."
He looked again in her eyes, and their light and beauty held him. His own
eyes swam. The exaltation of a great idea was upon them, was a bond of
fate between them. It was a moment of peril not fully realised by either.
David did realise, however, that she was beautiful beyond all women he
had ever seen--or was he now for the first time really aware of the
beauty of woman? She had an expression, a light of eye and face, finely
alluring beyond mere outline of feature. Yet the features were there,
too, regular and fine; and her brown hair waving away from her broad,
white forehead over eyes a greyish violet in colour gave her a classic
distinction. In the quietness of the face there was that strain of the
Quaker, descending to her through three generations, yet enlivened by a
mind of impulse and genius.
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