To her advent into his life he owed his
complete and final severance from the petty but infinite distractions
and temptations of the world. His present without flaw, and his future
assured, what was to prevent his gifts from flowering thickly
and unceasingly in their peaceful soil and atmosphere of calm? He
remembered that his first irresistible impulse to write had come
on the night he had met her. Would he owe to her his final power to
speak, as he had owed to that other--
He sat suddenly erect, then leaned forward, gazing at the fire with
eyes from which all languor had vanished. He felt as if a flash of
lightning had been projected into his brain. That other? Who was that
other?--why was she so marvellously like Weir? Her grandmother? Yes,
but why had he felt for Weir that sense of recognition and spiritual
kinship the moment he had seen her?
He sprang to his feet and strode to the middle of the room. Great
God! Was Weir reembodied as well as himself? Lady Sioned Penrhyn was
indisputably the woman he had loved in his former existence--that was
proved once for all by the scene in the gallery at Rhyd-Alwyn and
by the letters he had found addressed to her.
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