It was as if they were speaking with one mind, or both native speakers of some new language who had never met before in their lives. She had understood the meaning behind his words and had responded in kind. His heart soared.

"Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight." Finally he touched her face, the pad of his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. How could he express what she meant, what this moment meant to him except in poetry?

"I am lost for words. I am amazed." He spoke tremulously, now, in his own words. "If I did not know myself to be awake, I would insist that I were dreaming."