anguish--only a great sadness. A mocking smile curled her lips at the
memory of her futile struggles toward stationery and a stamp, that she
might set him free. How could he be more free than he was, untroubled,
doubtless, by even the thought of her?

She began to perceive, though dimly, the divinity that shapes our
humblest affairs. In the search for an envelope, she had found her
father and mother, as was doubtless meant from the beginning. Surely she
had never needed them more than she did now! If it had been meant for
her to have stationery, and to set Alden free in that way, it would have
been mysteriously provided--she was certain of that.

[Sidenote: A Clear Path]

She saw, too, that the way upon which we are meant to go is always
clear, or at least indicated, at the time we are meant to take it; that
guidance is definitely felt through the soul's own overpowering
conviction. The struggle and the terror fell away from her like a
garment she had cast aside, and for the moment she emerged into freedom
as before she had come into love.

Deep in her heart she still loved Alden, but unselfishly. This new
Rosemary asked nothing for herself, she only longed to give, though
freedom might be her best gift to him. Harm could come to her only
through herself; the burning heart and the racked soul had been under
the dominion of Fear.

She took the path up along the river, that lay half asleep and crooning
drowsily to the little clouds that were mirrored upon its tranquil
breast. Tiny blue pools among the rushes at the bend in the stream gave
back glints of sapphire and turquoise, with now and then a glimmer of
gold. Sometimes, upon a hidden rock, the river swirled and rippled,
breaking murmurously into silver and pearl, but steadily beneath, in
spite of all outward seeming, the current moved endlessly toward its
sea-born destiny, as Man himself unto the Everlasting.

[Sidenote: Pleasures of the Valley]

Singing among the far hills, and rushing downward in a torrent of
ecstatic life, the river had paused in the valley to rest, dreaming,
perchance, of the long cool shadows in the uplands, the far altar-fires
of daybreak. There were pleasant things to do in the valley, to lie at
full length, basking in the sun, to hum a bit of the old music, to touch
gently the harp-strings of the marsh grass and rushes, dimpling with
pleasure at the faint answer, to reflect every passing mood of cloud and
sky, even to hold the little c