e," she went
on. "It's quite dark in the valley."

"It's still light here--and there's the fire." Northrup was watching
the face beside him.

"Yes, the fire, and presently the moon rising, just over there."

Restraint lay between the two on the mossy log. They both resented
it.

"You know, you must know, that I'd rather have you share my book than
any one else." Northrup spoke almost roughly.

He had meant to say something quite different, but anything would do
so long as he controlled the situation.

"I wonder why?" Mary-Clare kept her face turned away.

"Well, you are so phenomenally keen. You know such a lot."

"I used to snap up everything like a hungry puppy, Uncle Peter often
said. I suppose I do now, Mr. Northrup, but I only know life as a
blind person does: I feel."

"That's just it. You _feel_ life. It isn't coloured for you by others.
You get its form, its hardness or softness, its fragrance or the
reverse, but you fix your own colour. That's why you'd be such a
ripping critic. Will you let me read some of my book to you?"

"Oh! of course. I'd be so glad and proud."

"Come, now, you're not joking?"

The large golden eyes turned slowly and rested upon Northrup.

"I do not think I ever joke"--Mary-Clare's words fell softly--"about
such things. Why, it would seem like seeing a soul get into a body.
You do not joke about that."

"You make me horribly afraid about my book. People do not usually take
the writing of a book in just that way."

"I wish they did. You see, my doctor often said that books would live
if they only held truth. He loved these words, 'And above all
else--Truth taketh away the victory!' I can see him now waving his
arms and singing that defiantly, as if he were challenging the whole
world. He said that truth was the soul of things."

"But who knows Truth?"

"There is something in us that knows it. Don't you think so?"

"But we see it so differently."

"That does not matter, if we know it! Truth is fixed and sure. Isn't
that so?"

"I do not know. Sometimes I think so: then--good Lord! that is what
I'm trying to find out."

Northrup's face grew tense.

"And so am I."

"All right, then, let's go on the quest together!" Northrup stood up
and offered his hand to Mary-Clare as if actually they were to start
on the pilgrimage. "Where and when may I begin to read to you?"

The children were coming nearer.

"While this weather lasts, I'd love the open. Wouldn't you? Log