m.

"Loneliness," he said, "is man's chief fault"; and seeing his pen lying
on the desk, he tried to lift his hand. Bianca held it down. At that hot
clasp something seemed to stir in Mr. Stone. His cheeks grew pink.

"Kiss me, Dad."

Mr. Stone hesitated. Then his lips resolutely touched her eye. "It is
wet," he said. He seemed for a moment struggling to grasp the meaning
of moisture in connection with the human eye. Soon his face again became
serene. "The heart," he said, "is a dark well; its depth unknown. I have
lived eighty years. I am still drawing water."

"Draw a little for me, Dad."

This time Mr. Stone looked at his daughter anxiously, and suddenly
spoke, as if afraid that if he waited he might forget.

"You are unhappy!"

Bianca put her face down to his tweed sleeve. "How nice your coat
smells!" she murmured.

"You are unhappy," repeated Mr. Stone.

Bianca dropped his hand, and moved away.

Mr. Stone followed her. "Why?" he said. Then, grasping his brow, he
added: "If it would do you any good, my dear, to hear a page or two, I
could read to you."

Bianca shook her head.

"No; talk to me!"

Mr. Stone answered simply: "I have forgotten."

"You talk to that little girl," murmured Bianca.

Mr. Stone seemed to lose himself in reverie.

"If that is true," he said, following out his thoughts, "it must be
due to the sex instinct not yet quite extinct. It is stated that the
blackcock will dance before his females to a great age, though I have
never seen it."

"If you dance before her," said Bianca, with her face averted, "can't
you even talk to me?"

"I do not dance, my dear," said Mr. Stone; "I will do my best to talk to
you."

There was a silence, and he began to pace the room. Bianca, by the empty
fireplace, watched a shower of rain driving past the open window.

"This is the time of year," said Mr. Stone suddenly; "when lambs leap
off the ground with all four legs at a time." He paused as though for
an answer; then, out of the silence, his voice rose again--it sounded
different: "There is nothing in Nature more symptomatic of that
principle which should underlie all life. Live in the future; regret
nothing; leap! A lamb which has left earth with all four legs at once
is the symbol of true life. That she must come down again is but an
inevitable accident. 'In those days men were living on their pasts. They
leaped with one, or, at the most, two legs at a time; they never left
the ground, or