ise, and his curiosity increased.

"I know nothing of myself," she continued. "I remember neither father
nor mother. I grew up in the forest, among people who did not love me,
but who taught me, and respected me as though I were their superior, and
who sometimes feared me. When I look back, I am amazed at their learning
and their wisdom--and ashamed of having learned so little."

"You are unjust to yourself."

Unorna laughed.

"No one ever accused me of that," she said. "Will you believe it? I do
not even know where that place was. I cannot tell you even the name of
the kingdom in which it lay. I learned a name for it and for the forest,
but those names are in no map that has ever fallen into my hands. I
sometimes feel that I would go to the place if I could find it."

"It is very strange. And how came you here?"

"I was told the time had come. We started at night. It was a long
journey, and I remember feeling tired as I was never tired before or
since. They brought me here, they left me in a religious house among
nuns. Then I was told that I was rich and free. My fortune was brought
with me. That, at least, I know. But those who received it and who take
care of it for me, know no more of its origin than I myself. Gold tells
no tales, and the secret has been well kept. I would give much to know
the truth--when I am in the humour."

She sighed, and then laughed again.

"You see why it is that I find the idea of a brother so hard to
understand," she added, and then was silent.

"You have all the more need of understanding it, my dear friend," the
Wanderer answered, looking at her thoughtfully.

"Yes--perhaps so. I can see what friendship is. I can almost guess what
it would be to have a brother."

"And have you never thought of more than that?" He asked the question
in his calmest and most friendly tone, somewhat deferentially as though
fearing lest it should seem tactless and be unwelcome.

"Yes, I have thought of love also," she answered, in a low voice. But
she said nothing more, and they walked on for some time in silence.

They came out upon the open place by the river which she remembered
so well. Unorna glanced about her and her face fell. The place was the
same, but the solitude was disturbed. It was not Sunday as it had been
on that day a month ago. All about the huge blocks of stone, groups
of workmen were busy with great chisels and heavy hammers, hewing and
chipping and fashioning the material t