The voice died away. The fire had become ashes on the hearth. The drip of the rain had ceased--light found its way through the parchment-covered window. The storm had passed. The hermit's story was ended. Neither Constance nor Frank found words, and for a time their host seemed to have forgotten their presence. Then, arousing, he said: "You will wish to be going now. I have detained you too long with my sad tale. But I have always hungered to pour it into some human ear before I died. Being young, you will quickly forget and be merry again, and it has lifted a heaviness from my spirit. I think we shall find the sun on the hills once more, and I will direct you to the trail. But perhaps you will wish to pause a moment to see something of my means of providing for life in this retreat. I will ask of you, as I did of Robin, to say nothing of my existence here to the people of the world. Yet you may convey to Robin that you have been here--saying no more than that. And you may say that I would see him when next he builds his campfire not far away, for my heart of hearts grows hungry for his face." Rising, he led them to the adjoining room. "This was my first hut," he said. "It is now my storehouse, where, like the squirrels, I gather for the winter. I hoard my grain here, and there is a pit below where I keep my other stores from freezing. There in the corner is my mill--the wooden mortar and pestle of our forefathers--and here you see I have provided for my water supply from the spring. Furs have renewed my clothing, and I have never wanted for sustenance--chiefly nuts, fruits and vegetables. I no longer kill the animals, but have made them my intimate friends. The mountains have furnished me with everything--companions, shelter, clothing and food, savors--even salt, for just above a deer lick I found a small trickle from which I have evaporated my supply. Year by year I have added to my house--making it, as you have seen, a part of the forest itself--that it might be less discoverable; though chiefly because I loved to build somewhat as the wild creatures build, to know the intimate companionship of the living trees, and to be with the birds and squirrels as one of their household." They passed out into the open air, and to a little plot of cultivated ground shut in by the thick forest. It was an orderly garden, with well-kept paths, and walks of old-fashioned posies. Bright and fresh after the summer rain, it was like a gay jewel, set there on the high mountain side, close to the bending sky. It was near sunset, and a chorus of birds were shouting in the tree tops. Coming from the dim cabin, with its faded fire and its story of human sorrow, into this bright living place, was stepping from enchantment of the play into the daylight of reality. Frank praised the various wonders in a subdued voice, while Constance found it difficult to speak at all. Presently, when they were ready to go, the hermit brought the basket and the large trout.