youth beaten is a terrible sight, and Mary-Clare, off her
guard, alone and suffering, believed herself beaten. She was close to
Northrup before she saw him. For a moment he feared the shock was
going to be too great for her endurance. She turned white--then the
quick red rose threateningly, the eyes dimmed.

Northrup did not speak--he could not. With gratitude he presently saw
the dear head lift bravely, the trembling smile curl her cold lips.

"You--have come!"

"Yes, Mary-Clare."

"How--did you know--where I was?"

"I stopped at the yellow house. I saw your--I saw Larry--he told me
where to find you."

"He told you that?"

The bravery flickered--but pride rallied.

"He is very changed." The words were chosen carefully. "He is very
patient and--and Noreen loves him. She never could have, if he had not
come back! She--well, you remember how she used to take care of me?"

"Yes, Mary-Clare."

"She takes care of her father in that way, now that she understands
his need."

"She would. That would be Noreen's way."

"Yes, her way. And I am glad he came back to us. It might all have
been so different."

There was a suggestion of passionate defence in the low, hurried
words, a quick insistence that Northrup accept her position as she
herself was doing.

"Yes, Mary-Clare. Your old philosophy has proved itself."

"I am glad you believe that."

"I have come to the Forest to tell you so. The things that do not
count drop away. We do not have to push them from our lives."

"Oh! I am glad to hear you say that."

Mary-Clare caught her breath.

There seemed to be nothing to keep them apart now--a word, a quick
sentence were all that were necessary to bridge the past and the
present. Neither dared consider the future.

The small, common things crept into the conversation for a time, then
Mary-Clare asked hesitatingly:

"You--you are happy? And your book?"

"The book is awaiting its time, Mary-Clare. I must live up to it. I
know that now. And the girl you once saw here, well! that is all past.
It was one of those things that fell away!"

There was nothing to say to this, but Northrup heard a sharp indrawing
of the breath, and felt the girl beside him stumble on the darkening
trail.

"You know I went across the water to do my part?" he asked quickly.

"You would, of course. That call found such men as you. Larry went,
too!" This came proudly.

"Yes, and he paid more than I did, Mary-Clare."

"He had m