wonderful fact gave her new values, spread about her new mysteries. And
some of these mysteries Dion did not attempt to fathom at first. Perhaps
he felt that some silences of love are like certain ceremony with a
friend--a mark of the delicacy which is the sign-manual of the things
that endure. In the beginning of that honeymoon there was a beautiful
restraint which was surely of good augury for the future. Not all
the doors were set violently open, not all the rooms were ruthlessly
visited.

Dion found that he was able to reverence the woman who had given herself
to him more after he had received the gift than before. And this was
very wonderful to him, was even, somehow, perplexing. For Rosamund
had the royal way of bestowing. She was capable of refusal, but not of
half-measures or of niggardliness. There was something primitive in
her which spoke truth with a voice that was fearless; and yet that
very primitiveness seemed closely allied with her purity. Dion only
understood what that purity was when he was married to her. It was like
the radiant atmosphere of Greece to him. Had not Greece led him to it,
made him desire it with all that was best in his nature? Now he had
brought it to Greece. Actually, day after day, he trod the Acropolis
with Rosamund.

Greece had already, he believed, put out a hand and drawn them more
closely together.

"Love me, love the land I love."

Laughingly, yet half-anxiously too, Dion had said that to Rosamund when
they left Brindisi and set sail for Greece. With her usual sincerity she
had answered: