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So I think at this hour, when I look back to the crisis through the quiet medium of time: I was unconscious of folly at the instant. I stood motionless under my hierophant's touch. My refusals were forgotten my fears overcome my wrestlings paralysed. The Impossible i.e., my marriage with St. John was fast becoming the Possible. All was changing utterly with a sudden sweep.
Rathunor was satisfied, never forgetting the Hierophant's sacred words, and none other need be consulted. In their silent hearts they wished the wedding might be private and the holy ceremony of the Temple be performed by the High Priest.
Truly, a strange commingling of the two opposing forces, and one in which time was required to bring about perfect adjustment. The High Priest had commanded all visitors to be excluded, except Rathunor, who was to have access at all times, and as the Hierophant's word was that of God to them, so, purely from a religious standpoint, they were strictly obeyed.
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