slender, brown-clad form seated upon the fairy mound.

"That is strange reading," he said.

Audrey looked at the book listlessly. "The schoolmaster gave it to me. It
tells of things as they are, all stripped of make-believe, and shows how
men love only themselves, and how ugly and mean is the world when we look
at it aright. The schoolmaster says that to look at it aright you must
not dream; you must stay awake,"--she drew her hand across her brow and
eyes,--"you must stay awake."

"I had rather dream," said MacLean shortly. "I have no love for your
schoolmaster."

"He is a wise man," she answered. "Now that I do not like the woods I
listen to him when he comes to the glebe house. If I remember all he says,
maybe I shall grow wise, also, and the pain will stop." Once more she
dropped her chin upon her hand and fell to brooding, her eyes upon the
river. When she spoke again it was to herself: "Sometimes of nights I hear
it calling me. Last night, while I knelt by my window, it called so loud
that I put my hands over my ears; but I could not keep out the sound,--the
sound of the river that comes from the mountains, that goes to the sea.
And then I saw that there was a light in Fair View house."

Her voice ceased, and the silence closed in around them. The sun was
setting, and in the west were purple islands merging into a sea of gold.
The river, too, was colored, and every tree was like a torch burning
stilly in the quiet of the evening. For some time MacLean watched the
girl, who now again seemed unconscious of his presence; but at last he got
to his feet, and looked toward his boat. "I must be going," he said; then,