iness. But it all seems trivial
now.

My companions were accomplished botanists, and here, for the first time,
I found myself on common ground with both. We discussed every familiar
wild flower as eagerly as if we had been professed field naturalists. In
walking or climbing my assistance was neither requisitioned nor
required. I did not offer, therefore, what must have been unwelcome when
it was superfluous.

We rested at last under the shade of a big beech, for the afternoon sun
was rather oppressive. It was a pleasant spot to while away an hour. A
purling brook went babbling by, singing to itself as it journeyed to the
sea. Insects droned about in busy flight. There was a perfume of
honeysuckle wafted to us on the summer wind, which stirred the
beech-tree and rustled its young leaves lazily, so that the sunlight
peeped through the green lattice-work and shone on the faces of these
two handsome girls, stretched in graceful postures on the cool sward
below--their white teeth sparkling in its brilliance, while their soft
laughter made music for me. In the fulness of my heart, I said aloud:

"It is a good thing to be alive."

CHAPTER IV.

GEORGE DELANY--DECEASED.

"It is a good thing to be alive," Natalie Brande repeated slowly,
gazing, as it were, far off through her half-closed eyelids. Then
turning to me and looking at me full, wide-eyed, she asked: "A good
thing for how many?"

"For all; for everything that is alive."

"Faugh! For few things that are alive. For hardly anything. You say it
is a good thing to be alive. How often have you said that in your life?"

"All my life through," I answered stoutly. My constitution was a good
one, and I had lived healthily, if hardily. I voiced the superfluous
vitality of a well nourished body.

"Then you do not know what it is to feel for others."

There was a scream in the underwood near us. It ended in a short,
choking squeak. The girl paled, but she went on with outward calm.

"That hawk or cat feels as you do. I wonder what that young rabbit
thinks of life's problem?"

"But we are neither hawks nor cats, nor even young rabbits," I answered
warmly. "We can not bear the burthens of the whole animal world. Our own
are sufficient for us."

"You are right. They are more than sufficient."

I had made a false move, and so tried to recover my lost ground. She
would not permit me. The conversation which had run in pleasant channels
for two happy hours was e