brown leaves still fluttering on the scrub-oaks. At length
Carley came out on the edge of the bluff with the gray expanse of sea
beneath her, and a long wandering shore line, ragged with wreckage or
driftwood. The surge of water rolled in--a long, low, white, creeping
line that softly roared on the beach and dragged the pebbles gratingly
back. There was neither boat nor living creature in sight.

Carley felt the scene ease a clutching hand within her breast. Here was
loneliness and solitude vastly different from that of Oak Creek Canyon,
yet it held the same intangible power to soothe. The swish of the surf,
the moan of the wind in the evergreens, were voices that called to
her. How many more miles of lonely land than peopled cities! Then the
sea--how vast! And over that the illimitable and infinite sky, and
beyond, the endless realms of space. It helped her somehow to see and
hear and feel the eternal presence of nature. In communion with nature
the significance of life might be realized. She remembered Glenn
quoting: "The world is too much with us. ... Getting and spending, we
lay waste our powers." What were our powers? What did God intend men to
do with hands and bodies and gifts and souls? She gazed back over the
bleak land and then out across the broad sea. Only a millionth part of
the surface of the unsubmerged earth knew the populous abodes of man.
And the lonely sea, inhospitable to stable homes of men, was thrice the
area of the land. Were men intended, then, to congregate in few
places, to squabble and to bicker and breed the discontents that led to
injustice, hatred, and war? What a mystery it all was! But Nature was
neither false nor little, however cruel she might be.

Once again Carley fell under the fury of her ordeal. Wavering now,
restless and sleepless, given to violent starts and slow spells of
apathy, she was wearing to defeat.

That spring day, one year from the day she had left New York for
Arizona, she wished to spend alone. But her thoughts grew unbearable.
She summed up the endless year. Could she live another like it?
Something must break within her.

She went out. The air was warm and balmy, carrying that subtle current
which caused the mild madness of spring fever. In the Park the greening
of the grass, the opening of buds, the singing of birds, the gladness of
children, the light on the water, the warm sun--all seemed to reproach
her. Carley fled from the Park to the home of Beatrice