ype, spiritual, intelligent, wholesome,
beautiful.... And I've fallen into the habit of thinking of you in that
way--as thoroughly human, thoroughly feminine, heir to the best that is
human, and to its temptations too; yet, somehow, instinctively finding
the right way in life, the true way through doubt and stress.... Like
the Land itself--with perhaps the blood of many nations in your
veins.... I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say--"

"_I_ know."

"Yes," he whispered, "you do know that all I have said is only a longer
way of saying that I love you."

"Through stress and doubt," she murmured, "you think I will find the
way?--with perhaps the blood of many nations in my veins, with all their
transmitted emotions, desires, passions for my inheritance?... It is my
only heritage. They did not even leave me a name; only a capacity for
every human error, with no knowledge of what particular inherited
failing I am to contend with when temptation comes. Do you wonder I am
sometimes lonely and afraid?"

"You darling!" he said under his breath.

"Hush; that is forbidden. You know perfectly well it is. _Are_ you
laughing? That is very horrid of you when I'm trying _so_ hard not to
listen when you use forbidden words to me. But I heard you once when I
should not have heard you. Does that seem centuries ago? Alas for us
both, Ulysses, when I heard your voice calling me under the Southern
stars! Would you ever have spoken if you knew what you know now?"

"I would have told you the truth sooner."

"Told me what truth?"

"That I love you, Calypso."

"You always answer like a boy! Ah, well I--if you knew how easily a girl
believes such answers!"

He bent his head, raising her bare fingers to his lips. A tiny shock
passed through them both; she released her hand and buried it in the
folds of her kilt.

There was a pale flare of moonlight behind the forest; trunks and
branches were becoming more distinct. A few moments later the Indian,
bending low, came creeping back without a sound, and straightened up in
the fathomless shadow of the oak, motioning Shiela and Hamil to rise.

"Choo-lee," he motioned with his lips; "Ko-la-pa-kin!"

Lips close to Hamil's ear she whispered: "He says that there are seven
in that pine. Can you see them?"

He strained his eyes in vain; she had already found them and now stood
close to his shoulder, whispering the direction.

"I can't make them out," he said. "Don't wait for me, but ta