"Will, that is true," she cried, "but it is only part of the truth. 'Close thy' Carlyle; 'open thy' Emerson. It's true, you have missed some things that you deserved to have and that many of your inferiors have for nothing. But your life is only begun, and your ability and pluck can do so much that you needn't waste regret on anything they may fail to do. Even if circumstances be unconquerable that stand between you and some good things, are the things you have gained instead of less value?--your courage and patience, your self-reliance and trustworthiness and helpfulness? Why, Will, _character_ is worth more than knowledge of art, or familiarity with good society; just to live bravely is worth more than all the rest. Do you suppose I would exchange your companionship for that of a dozen 'cultured' people who could talk to me about 'sincere furniture'"--this was in the last decade, remember--"and Rauss's heads, as you can't, and who never showed me one spark of genuine feeling about the great things of life, as you can?" Will was overwhelmed. Winifred had talked of his affairs much, following them with unvarying interest, but of himself or herself, never; and it was actually a new idea to the young fellow that she could have any very high opinion of him. Moreover, it was the first time he had heard her speak with unveiled and ardent feeling. "You do not mean"--and he formed his words with difficulty--"that I could meet on equal ground people that--such people as _your_ associates." "No; you would meet most of them on higher ground. If they didn't know it, that would be their discredit. I should think you could see that," she added, in a quick, parenthetic averse way, "from _their_ associate. If you want to get a higher opinion of the value of your life, compare it with an ordinary, foolish, useless one--like mine." She gave him no chance to answer that, but was the next moment on her feet, suggesting that they walk on, and wishing they were not to stop short of the Lassen Buttes, whose apparent nearness, scores of miles distant as they were, was still a perpetual surprise to her eastern eyes.