taken place between them, although they had not spoken; for the eye has
a language of its own.

What was the meaning of that glance? What was the emotion that gave it
birth in the soul? He knew! It told its own story. To their dying day,
the actors in that silent drama remembered that glance with rapture and
with pain.

Pepeeta spoke first, hurriedly and anxiously: "What did you say last
night about the 'light of life?' Tell me! I must know."

"I said there is a light that lighteth every man that cometh into the
world."

"And what did you mean? Be quick. There is only a moment."

"I meant that there is a light that shines from the soul itself and that
in this light we may walk, and he who walks in it, walks safely. He need
never fall!"

"Never? I do not understand; it is beautiful; but I do not understand!"

"Pepeeta!" called her husband, angrily.

She turned away, and David watched her gliding out of his sight, with an
irrepressible pain and longing. "I suppose she is his daughter," he said
to himself, and upon that natural but mistaken inference his whole
destiny turned. Something seemed to draw him after her. He took a step
or two, halted, sighed and returned to his labor.