"Poor woodland creature!" said I, turning round. "How could you understand? It was idle of me to chide you. It is not in your little nature to comprehend a life of self-denial. Ah! if only I could reach you!" "You have reached him," said the hill. "If only I could touch you!" "You have touched him," said the hill. "But I will never leave you," burst out the Faun. "I will sweep out your shrine for you, I will accompany you to the meetings of matrons. I will enrich you at the bazaars." I shook my head. "For these things I care not at all. And indeed I was minded to reject your offer of service altogether. There I was wrong. You shall help me--you shall help me to make others happy." "Dear priest, what a curious life! People whom I have never seen--people who cannot see me--why should I make them happy?" "My poor lad--perhaps in time you will learn why. Now begone: commence. On this very hill sits a young lady for whom I have a high regard. Commence with her. Aha! your face falls. I thought as much. You _cannot_ do anything. Here is the conclusion of the whole matter!" "I can make her happy," he replied, "if you order me; and when I have done so, perhaps you will trust me more." Emily's mother had started home, but Emily and the little friend still sat beside the tea-things--she in her white piqué dress and biscuit straw, he in his rough but well-cut summer suit. The great pagan figure of the Faun towered insolently above them. The friend was saying, "And have you never felt the appalling loneliness of a crowd?" "All that," replied Emily, "have I felt, and very much more--" Then the Faun laid his hands upon them. They, who had only intended a little cultured flirtation, resisted him as long as they could, but were gradually urged into each other's arms, and embraced with passion. "Miscreant!" I shouted, bursting from the wood. "You have betrayed me." "I know it: I care not," cried the little friend. "Stand aside. You are in the presence of that which you do not understand. In the great solitude we have found ourselves at last." "Remove your accursed hands!" I shrieked to the Faun. He obeyed and the little friend continued more calmly: "It is idle to chide. What should you know, poor clerical creature, of the mystery of love of the eternal man and the eternal woman, of the self-effectuation of a soul?" "That is true," said Emily angrily. "Harry, you would never have made me happy. I shall treat you as a friend, but how could I give myself to a man who makes such silly jokes? When you played the buffoon at tea, your hour was sealed. I must be treated seriously: I must see infinities broadening around me as I rise. You may not approve of it, but so I am. In the great solitude I have found myself at last." "Wretched girl!" I cried. "Great solitude! O pair of helpless puppets----"