“Having ever held her purely material you were like to do so,” said Oswald calmly. “You were less actually blameworthy than over precipitate. Since I hold her to be spirit you were probably beyond the range of sight of her. I do not say this of a surety since I hold that sight of her comes at her will rather than ours; but I do say, that had man or child given me as great proof of knowledge of her as yon child gave you, I had followed most closely in his steps, seen eye to eye with him as near as might be. On your own showing you stood far from him.” Peregrine was still silent. He felt himself more than fool. Oswald eyed him kindly. “Do not be downcast, man. There’s no mother’s son of us but blunders once—aye, often more than once, and that, perchance, within a foot of our goal. Recognizing that, there’s humiliation to add to the wounds and fatigue of the journey. This, bringing discouragement, makes acquiescence in failure the easier course. ’Tis the coward’s outlook. Face the matter again. In this case I say, take courage; believe in her, and await her coming.” The words brought comfort to Peregrine. He looked gratefully at his mentor. You might have seen trust in his eyes. The personality and confidence of the man gave him strength. “An’ you take my advice,” said Oswald, “you will sleep now. New hope comes with the morning.” He showed him a bed of bracken, made him lie down. Then himself laid down at the other side of the cabin. It was long before Peregrine slept. Thoughts pursued each other pell-mell through his brain, one alone predominant and lasting enough to grasp, namely, that in his host he had found comprehension of the matter that absorbed him, and sanity combined. This thought at length brought him rest. An hour or so before daybreak he slept. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXVIII IN THE FOREST MORNING brought refreshment, and with it new hope and courage as Oswald had foretold. At breakfast he put a proposal to Peregrine frankly enough. “An’ you are so minded, why not bide with me a time. Men term me a recluse, and so in a measure I am, finding little congenial in the majority of mankind. I should find no constraint in your presence. We could talk when the mood was on us, and—better test of congeniality—keep silence when we willed. Have you mind to try the partnership for a while?”