delighted to talk of its wonders. And she was always so
attentive, so interested in everything he said, and so ap
preciative of those things for which he could find only crude
expression, that he never grew weary of conversing
. with
her. And then he loved to watch the color flush her pale
cheek, and the sparkle light her expressive eyes, whenever
he said anything that pleased her. (Poor little heart, and
when was she not pleased.)
And so the days had come and gone—bright, happy days
that all too quickly passed away. And as they lengthened
into weeks, he came to realize that this child of Nature was
in truth far from being a child. For under the sparkling
purity of her girlhood he saw, as if peering into deep water,
a vague and fluctuating image of an almost somber woman
hood. And with such knowledge there came a fear, an ap
prehension lest she should grow too fond of him.
Too fond of him? Ah, yes! For had he not long since
planned out for himself a life work? Had lie not spent all
these years of study in preparing for it? Had lie not sacri
ficed many youthful pleasures to it? Yes, and more. It was
the motive behind his every action. The ruling passion of
his life. Not that he was ambitious to gain power, or fame,
or even riches. It was simply the love of the work itself.
And although lie knew that if lie would make it a success, lie
must concentrate his whole heart and mind upon it; yet lie
was willing to sacrifice all else if he could but realize its
possibilities.
And so he had some cause to fear lest this child of Na
ture should grow too fbnd of him. Such pleasures were not
for his enjoyment.. He must put them away. But how?
He might tell her. Yes, he would tell her, would put her on
her guard. But what if it was already too late? No, it
could not be. But even so, lie must tell her just the same.
Yes, he would tell her to-morrow.
But on the morrow, she was always so happy, so light
hearted, and yet so kind and gentle, that:4le Could not .find
The Free Lana'.