earing him away,
forever and forever, beyond recall or return. Slippy McGee had gone
into the past; he was dead and done with. But John Flint the
naturalist was vibrantly and vitally alive, built upon the living
rock, a house not to be washed away by any wave of passion.

This reaction from the black and bitter hour through which I had just
passed, this turbulent joy and relief, overcame me. My knees shook and
gave way; I tottered, and sank helplessly into the seat built around
our great magnolia. And shaken out of all self-control I wept as I had
not been permitted to weep over my own dead, my own overthrown hopes.
Head to foot I was shaken as with some rending sickness. The sobs were
torn out of my throat with gasps.

He stood stone still. He went white, and his nostrils grew pinched,
and in his set face only his eyes seemed alive and suffering. They
blinked at me, as if a light had shone too strongly upon them. A sort
of inarticulate whimper came from him. Then with extreme care he laid
the handkerchief-covered hat upon the ground, and down upon his knees
he went beside me, his arms about my knees. He, too, was trembling.

"Father! ... _Father!_"

"My son ... I was afraid ... you were lost ... gone ... into a far
country.... It would have broken my heart!"

He said never a word; but hung his head upon his breast, and clung to
my knees. When he raised his eyes to mine, their look was so piteous
that I had to put my hand upon him, as one reassures one's child. So
for a healing time we two remained thus, both silent. The garden was
exquisitely still and calm and peaceful. We were shut in and canopied
by walls and roof of waving green, lighted with great cream-colored
flowers with hearts of gold, and dappled with sun and shadow. Through
it came the vireo's fairy flute.

God knows what thoughts went through John Flint's mind; but for me, a
great peace stole upon me, mixed with a greater, reverent awe and
wonder. Oh, heart of little faith! I had been afraid; I had doubted
and despaired and been unutterably wretched; I had thought him lost
whom the Powers of Darkness swooped upon, conquered, and led astray.
And God had needed nothing stronger than a butterfly's fragile wing to
bear a living soul across the abyss!

We went together, after a while, to his rooms, and when he had
submitted to Kerry's welcome, we carefully examined the beautiful
insect he had captured. As he had said, she had not lost a scale; and
she w