t you were
telling me that you had played with the child."

"He came home and told me about you," Mrs. MacNairn said. "His fear of
The Fear was more for me than for himself. He knew that if he brought
you to me, you who are more complete than we are, clearer-eyed and
nearer, nearer, I should begin to feel that he was not going--out. I
should begin to feel a reality and nearness myself. Ah, Ysobel! How we
have clung to you and loved you! And then that wonderful afternoon! I
saw no girl with her hand through Mr. Le Breton's arm; Hector saw none.
But you saw her. She was THERE!"

"Yes, she was there," I answered. "She was there, smiling up at him. I
wish he could have known."

What does it matter if this seems a strange story? To some it will mean
something; to some it will mean nothing. To those it has a meaning for
it will open wide windows into the light and lift heavy loads. That
would be quite enough, even if the rest thought it only the weird fancy
of a queer girl who had lived alone and given rein to her silliest
imaginings. I wanted to tell it, howsoever poorly and ineffectively
it was done. Since I KNEW I have dropped the load of ages--the black
burden. Out on the hillside my feet did not even feel the grass, and yet
I was standing, not floating. I had no wings or crown. I was only Ysobel
out on the hillside, free!

This is the way it all ended.

For three weeks that were like heaven we three lived together at
Muircarrie. We saw every beauty and shared every joy of sun and dew and
love and tender understanding.

After one lovely day we had spent on the moor in a quiet dream of joy
almost strange in its perfectness, we came back to the castle; and,
because the sunset was of such unearthly radiance and changing wonder
we sat on the terrace until the last soft touch of gold had died out and
left the pure, still, clear, long summer twilight.

When Mrs. MacNairn and I went in to dress for dinner, Hector lingered a
little behind us because the silent beauty held him.

I came down before his mother did, and I went out upon the terrace again
because I saw he was still sitting there. I went to the stone balustrade
very quietly and leaned against it as I turned to look at him and speak.

Then I stood quite still and looked long--for some reason not startled,
not anguished, not even feeling that he had gone. He was more beautiful
than any human creature I had ever seen before. But It had happened as
they said