He saw too great passivity of mind in Oswald. Though in a measure he recognized its excellence, his own spirit was a-tingle for greater action. The man’s quiet certainty of the woman’s existence was at once an anodyne and an irritant to him. While Oswald’s belief quickened his own belief, he yet saw something lukewarm in his lack of action. This Oswald guessed at, rather by intuition than by actual spoken word from Peregrine. For his part, he saw a certain weakness in Peregrine’s constant expectancy. He watched him walking alert in the forest, his eyes roving from side to side. “I have told you,” he said once quietly, “that effort on your part is useless. She will come at her own time.” “Truly you say so,” returned Peregrine, “and at the first I had confidence in your assurance. Now, I know not fully how to make my meaning clear; but to my thinking she bids me still seek her; awaits a further effort on my part.” Oswald smiled. “There imagination has you in thrall. On your own showing you have pursued her long without avail. Rest in her spirit which you know around you, and await sight of her quietly as I do. Your constant expectancy of her coming brings disquietude to your mind.” Reasonable enough argument, and yet one which Peregrine could not bring himself fully to accept. “Look at the matter dispassionately,” said Oswald. “You dreamed the existence of this woman. Knowing not whether the dream were truth or reality, you pursued her for over two years. The pursuit brought with it disappointment, and worse. Now I tell you of a certainty your dream was true, and show you the means by which the truth shall become fact to you. In seeking her, in your constant watching for her, you drive her from you. I know not why this is so; nevertheless I know it to be true.” Peregrine was silent. Here was apparent certainty presented to him on the one hand; as the pull against it was his own inner conviction, which he had yet more than once proved illusion, so it seemed. For the time he let the matter be; came again to rest in the strength of his comradeship, and the sweetness of Nature round him. So the days passed. March came with strong clean winds blowing through the forest, with daffodils tossing golden heads by brook-sides, a very wealth of gladness. With her passing came quieter April bringing sunshine and rain, and the scent of growing things in the forest. The birds mated and sang; the whole place was alive and buoyant. * * * * * One night Peregrine awakened suddenly. At the first waking he fancied Oswald to have called to him, but his quiet regular breathing showed him sleeping. Peregrine raised himself on his elbow and looked around.