rve us, and earn enough for next winter's course! It rained one
day, but the downpour was a blessing in disguise for it drew Peter and
Pat nearer together and wove a spun-glass barrier between the girl and
Caspian. She ran out in a torrent to get rid of the inevitable Ed, who
discreetly retired in fear of a drenching; then, when his back was
safely turned, I sent Peter Storm after her with an umbrella. Jack and I
were still on the veranda when the two came back an hour and a half
later. The rain had stopped. Danae's shower of gold had been scattered
over the woods in a sunburst. But even the joyousness of nature was
hardly enough to account for the look on their faces. I hoped to hear
that night or next day that the unnatural engagement with Ed Caspian was
"off." There I was disappointed. Not a word was said either by the girl
or the man; yet _something_ happened during that walk in the rain, I was
still sure. Both were different afterward, in a way too subtle to
define. But _nothing_ is too subtle to feel!

The night after starting on again we stopped at Lake Sunapee in New
Hampshire, and the day's run getting there was just as astonishing as
the run which brought us to Bretton Woods. We saw the glories of
Franconia Notch. We saw the Great Stone Profile, which influenced
Hawthorne's life. I heard people speaking of it as the profile of an
"_old_ man," but to Jack's eyes and mine it was young with eternal
youth, the youth of the gods. It gave us the same mysterious thrill that
the Sphinx gives; and its gaze, reading what sky and mountains,
cathedral forests and rushing rivers have to tell, holds the same Secret
that's in the stone eyes looking over the desert.

There are some charming Indian legends in these mountains where the
Profile reigns as king. One is the story of an immense carbuncle, the
biggest jewel in the world, which hangs suspended from a rock over a
hidden pool that reflects its fire. It's guarded by an evil spirit, but
when the day comes for it to be found, the god of the Profile will put
the knowledge of its whereabouts into the mind of a man. At the same
time strength will come to that man to overcome the wicked guardian, and
win the jewel. How I wish the Profile had taken a fancy to Jack! I'm
sure there couldn't be a better modern St. George. Alas, however, no
flash of divination came to him, and the only supernatural adventure we
had in these faun and fairy haunted woods was to catch a glimpse of the