and distance of the stars, from whence came no help. His sight and his thought could no longer penetrate among them, to thread a measureless way from depth to outermost depth, and be cleansed in the wonder of space. His head only grew the dizzier, with thoughts confined and whirling.
A light, flurried footstep sounded in the path close by. He sprang up. People in the world—he had forgotten them, and here was one coming, perhaps to speak empty words, perhaps to ask why he had done what was done.
He hoped the last, and was prepared to answer humbly.
Before he knew what was happening, a woman had run and flung her arms about him where he stood by the larch tree. Surely it was a dream, this swift embrace in the dark. But she was alive, warm, breathless, and was shaken violently as she clung to him.
"Oh," she panted, in tempestuous relief and hurry, "oh, why did n't you—why did n't you—oh, you fool!" She laughed in
