Oh, the transcendent beauty of that warm flush upon her face!—­the splendid hope, faith, and triumph of her attitude!  What strange miracle was here accomplished!—­an Angel had become human for the sake of love, even as light substantiates itself in the colors of flowers!—­the Eden lily had consented to be gathered,—­the paradise dove had fluttered down to earth!  Breathless, bewildered, lifted to a height of transport beyond all words, Alwyn gazed upon her in entranced, devout silence,—­the vast cathedral seemed to swing round and round in great glittering circles, and nothing was real, nothing steadfast, but that slight, sweet maiden in her soft gray robes, with the Ardath-blossoms gleaming white against her breast!  Angel she was,—­angel she ever would be,—­and yet—­what did she seem?  Naught but: 

   “A child-like woman, wise and very fair,
    Crowned with the garland of her golden hair!”

This, and no more,—­and yet in this was all earth and all heaven comprised!—­He gazed and gazed, overwhelmed by the amazement of his own bliss,—­he could have gazed upon her so in speechless ravishment for hours, when, with a gesture of infinite grace and appeal, she stretched out her hands toward him: 

“Speak to me, dearest one!” she murmured wistfully—­“Tell me,—­am I welcome?”

“O exquisite humility!—­O beautiful maiden-timid hesitation!  Was she,—­even she, God’s Angel, so far removed from pride, as to be uncertain of her lover’s reception of such a gift of love?  Roused from his half-swooning sense of wonder, he caught those gentle hands, and laid them tenderly against his breast,—­tremblingly, and all devoutly, he drew the lovely, yielding form into his arms, close to his heart,—­with dazzled sight he gazed down into that pure, perfect face, those clear and holy eyes shining like new-created stars beneath the soft cloud of clustering fair hair!

“Welcome!” he echoed, in a tone that thrilled with passionate awe and ecstasy;—­“My Edris!  My Saint!  My Queen!  Welcome, more welcome than the first flowers seen after winter snows!—­welcome, more welcome than swift rescue to one in dire peril!—­welcome, my Angel, into the darkness of mortal things, which haply so sweet a Presence shall make bright!  O sacred innocence that I am not worthy to shield! ...  O sinless beauty that I am all unfitted to claim or possess!  Welcome to my life, my heart, my soul!  Welcome, sweet Trust, sweet Hope, sweet Love, that as Christ lives, I will never wrong, betray, or resign again through all the glory spaces of far Eternity!”

As he spoke, his arms closed more surely about her,—­his lips met hers,—­and in the mingled human and divine rapture of that moment, there came a rushing noise, as of thousands of wings beating the air, followed by a mighty wave of music that rolled approachingly and then departingly through and through the Cathedral arches—­and a Voice, clear and resonant as a silver clarion, proclaimed aloud: