me as I came over the moss to him in an
unchanged abstraction. What was he doing there? He looked exceedingly
untidy, and his boots were white with dust.

'Good morning,' I said cheerfully, as he continued to gaze straight
through me.

'I have no doubt whatever that this was the place,' he remarked, 'and
Kluever was correct in his conjecture.'

'Now what is the use,' I said, sitting down on the moss beside him, 'of
talking to me like that when I don't know the beginning? Who is Kluever?
And what did he conjecture?'

His eyes suddenly flashed out of their dream, and he smiled and patted
my hand. 'Why, it is the little cousin,' he said, looking pleased.

'It is. May I ask what you are doing here?'

'Doing? Agreeing with Kluever that this is undoubtedly the spot.'

'What spot?'

'Tacitus describes it so accurately that there can be no reasonable
doubt.'

'Oh--Tacitus. I thought Kluever had something to do with Charlotte. Where
is Charlotte?'

'Conceive the procession of the goddess Nerthus, or Hertha, mother of
the earth, passing through these sacred groves on the way to bless her
children. Her car is covered, so that no eye shall behold her. The
priest alone, walking by the side, is permitted to touch it. Wherever
she passes holyday is kept. Arms are laid aside. Peace reigns absolute.
No man may seek to slay his brother while she who blesses all alike is
passing among her children. Then, when she has once more been carried to
her temple, in this water thou here seest, in this very lake, her car
and its draperies are cleansed by slaves, who, after performing their
office, are themselves thrown into the water and left to perish; for
they had laid hands on that which was holy, and even to-day, when we are
half-hearted in the defence of our adorations and rarely set up altars
in our souls, that is a dangerous thing to do.'

'Dear Professor,' I said, 'it is perfectly sweet of you to tell me about
the goddess Nerthus, but would you mind, before you go any further,
telling me where Charlotte is? When I last saw you you were whirling
after her in a waggonette. Did you ever catch her?'

He looked at me a moment, then gave the bulging pocket of his waterproof
a sounding slap. 'Little cousin,' he said, 'in me thou beholdest a
dreamer of dreams, an unpractical greybeard, a venerable sheep's-head.
Never, I suppose, shall I learn to remember, unaided, those occurrences
that I fain would not forget. Therefore I assist mys