Ross begged for a little music. She sat down to the piano and began to play--with a little emotion at first, which soon died out of the quiet sounds. The window was open on the lawn; the faint light, the odours of the garden, mingled with the soft music. They sat in silence for a moment. At last Allen rose; he must be going, he said, he had his paper to finish. "But it is nice here," he added, with half a sigh, as if vaguely aware, for a moment, of the romantic happiness about him. Then his mind seemed to revert to the argument; if Ross would only read Hegel's _Logic_-- "Well, we might read it aloud in the evenings perhaps," the young man answered, laughing. "Have you got a lamp on your machine?" "Yes, I think there is." They went out to the gate and, lighting his lamp, they sent him off into the twilight. Then they walked slowly back towards the house. A few stars were kindled above the dim trees; the air was fragrant with the scent of the hay, and through the stillness the faint noise of life came across the meadows--a woman singing, the voices of children, and sleepy sounds of cattle. "How good it is!" the young man said, drawing his companion closer to him. "But people are always coming, aren't they? It's dreadful! we never do seem to see anything of each other." "No, do we! But he's a nice man, Mr. Allen. I liked him." "Oh, old Allen's a good sort." "What does he do--how does he live in Oxford?" "He teaches philosophy, and lives on bread and tea in little lodgings." "It sounds awfully dreary--" "Well, it is rather dreary for him, poor man. I wouldn't be there for a good deal." "But, tell me, what was that he was arguing about?" "Oh, that's his philosophy; he's always arguing about it. He believes in a kind of Hegelianism." "What is that?" "Oh, it's a view of things; he's what you call an Optimist." "But I thought an Optimist was a person who was very happy?" "No; it only means a man who believes that you ought to be happy, that you are meant to enjoy life--that the world is good." "But you don't mean that he was trying to _prove_ that?" "Why, yes, you heard him; he's always at it when you give him a chance. He thinks it must be so, that you can deduce it from the first principles of things." But Mrs. Ross could not be made to understand it. To her it seemed that either you were happy or you weren't. "And, then, fancy trying to prove it to us!" she kept saying. At last she took her husband's arm to go in; but still stood for a moment in silence thinking it over. "That poor Mr. Allen!" she exclaimed at last, "an Optimist, you said he was?" Glasgow: Printed at the University Press by Robert MacLehose & Co. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Youth of Parnassus and Other Stories, by Logan Pearsall Smith