The old Master then became silent, his face set in a dream of life, as it was, as it would have been; while the great surgeon of St. Jerome's thought such thoughts as had never passed before into his mind. The night wind had died at this late hour, and in its place there was a coldness of the turning season. The stars shone near the earth and all was silent with the peace of mysteries. The Master looked at the man beside him and said calmly: "It is well as it is--all well!" At last the surgeon rose and stood before the Master. "I have learned the Secret," he said, "and now it is time for me to go." He went up to the house through the little court and disappeared within the Inn, while the Master sat by the pool, his face graven like the face of an old man, who has seen the circle of life and understands.... The next morning there was much talk about Dr. Norton's disappearance, until some one explained that the surgeon had been suddenly called back to the city. * * * * * The news spread through the Brotherhood one winter that the old Inn had been burned to the ground, a bitter December night when all the water-taps were frozen. And the Master, who had grown deaf of late, had been caught in his remote chamber, and burned or rather suffocated. There were few men in the Inn at the time, it being the holiday season, and when they had fought their way to the old man's room, they found him lying on the lounge by the window, the lids fallen over the dark eyes and his face placid with sleep or contemplation.... They sought in vain for the reason of the fire--but why search for causes? * * * * * All those beautiful hills that we loved to watch as the evening haze gathered, the Master left in trust for the people of the State--many acres of waving forests. And the School continued in its old place, the Brothers looking after its wants and supplying it with means to continue its work. But the Inn was never rebuilt. The blackened ruins of buildings were removed and the garden in the court extended so that it covered the whole space where the Inn had stood. This was enclosed with a thick plantation of firs on all sides but that one which looked westward across the Intervale. The spot can be seen for miles around on the Albany hill side. And when it was ready--all fragrant and radiant with flowers--they placed the Master there beside the pool, where he had loved to sit, surrounded by men. On the sunken slab his title was engraved-- THE MASTER OF THE INN Transcriber's Note: Both eyebrows and eye-brows are used in this text.