And then came the news of how the President had been shot, "with a poisoned bullet," and a week of contradictory bulletins from the Milburn House in Buffalo. And there were panicky surmises raised everywhere as to "what these anarchists may do next," so that Maggio was mobbed in Columbus, and Emma Goldman in Chicago; and Colonel Roosevelt was found, after days of search, on Mt. Marcy in the Adirondacks, and was told in the heart of a forest that to-morrow he would be at the head of a nation. And the country's guidance was entrusted to a mere lad of forty-three, with general uneasiness as to what might come of it; and the dramatic tale of Colonel Roosevelt's taking of the oath of office was in that morning's paper; and Marian and I were about to part. 4 "It will be dreadful," sighed she; "for we have to stay a whole week longer, and I shall come here every afternoon. And there will be only ghosts in the woods, and I shall be very lonely." "Dear," said I, "is it not something to have been happy? It has been such a wonderful summer; and come what may, nothing can rob us now of its least golden moment. And it is only for a little." "You will come back?" said she, half-doubtingly. "Yes," I said. "You wonderful, elfin creature, I shall undoubtedly come back--to your real home, and claim you there. Only I don't believe you do live in Aberlin,--you probably live in some great, gnarled oak hereabouts; and at night its bark uncloses to set you free, and you and your sisters dance out the satyrs' hearts in the moonlight. Oh, I know, Marian! I simply _know_ you are a dryad,--a wonderful, laughing, clear-eyed dryad strayed out of the golden age." "What a boy it is!" she said. "No, I am only a really and truly girl, dear,--a rather frightened girl, with very little disposition to laughter, just now. For you are going away--Oh, my dear, you have meant so much to me! The world is so different since you have come, and I am so happy and so miserable that--that I am afraid." An infinitesimal handkerchief went upward to two great, sparkling eyes, and dabbed at them. "Dear!" said I. And this remark appeared to meet the requirements of the situation. There was a silence now. We sat in the same spot where I had first encountered Marian Winwood. Only this was an autumnal forest that glowed with many gem-like hues about us; and already the damp odour of decaying leaves was heavy in the air. It was like the Tosti thing translated out of marine terms into a woodland analogue. The summer was ended; but _As the Coming of Dawn_ was practically complete.