ore the fire.

His dark eyes looked searchingly at her.

"If you knew the path to peace," he said, "you would be happier. I see
that I must take you out with me and teach you the hidden entrance to
that mystic roadway."

"You know one, then?" Lawrence's voice was amusedly skeptical.

"It lies through the heart of man into the heart of"--Philip
paused--"shall I say God?"

"You may as well, though it isn't especially clear." Lawrence smiled.
"God is a big, but vague, term."

"I find it so," Philip answered, seriously. "There are days, however,
and this was one of them, when I am sure of the meaning of that term.
Claire must go forth with me and see."

"Yes, do let me go," she said, eagerly. Then, with a little laugh: "If
your mystery out there is as discomforting as the Lawrence mystery in
here, I sha'n't worship him, however."

"He isn't." Philip arose and crossed to his books. "He is the mighty God
who speaks in solitude." He drew down a volume, and returned to his
chair.

"I find here in these mountains the medicine that _Hamlet_ should have
had. He would have been no _Hamlet_ had he ranged this plateau for a day
in winter."

"And the world would be the loser," Lawrence interposed.

Claire rose and started to prepare their evening meal. She had taken
over the duties of housekeeping from the time her ankle had allowed her
to walk.

"If you two are going to plunge the house into an argument such as that
one promises to be," she said gaily, "I am going to reenforce the inner
man so that at least you won't suffer from physical exhaustion."

Both men laughed, and one of them listened to her thoughtfully as she
moved about, while the other watched her, his dark eyes full of a keen
appreciation of her grace and her concise, accurate movements.

"How good it is to have her here," thought Philip. Aloud, he said,
seriously: "I do not think the world gains enough from _Hamlet_ to make
it worth the price he paid."

"Why not?" Lawrence was quick to respond. "Whatever his agony, whatever
his failures and his death, he left the world a picture of man's heroic
struggles to solve the riddle of the universe, his wisdom, his
strength--and his weakness."

"But that is just what we don't want--the picture of man's weakness. It
is made all the worse when it is presented with the power of a sublime
work."

Claire turned from the stove, and looked at Philip. His eyes were
burning with a deep, earnest fire that held her