"I don't believe I understand all you are saying, David. I only see that I have a very hard task before me, and now I know it is hard for you, too. Your mother made it clear to me that your true place is not living here as a doctor, even though you do so much good among us. I saw all at once that men are born each to fill a place in the world, and I think each man's measure should be the height of his own power and ability, nothing lower than that; and I see it—your power will be there, not here, where it must be limited by our limits and ignorance. That is your own country over there. It claims you—and I—I—there is the difference, you know. Think of your mother, and then of mine. David, I must not— Oh, David! You must be unhampered—free—what can I—what can we do?"
"We can just go down the mountain, sane beings, to our own little cabin, belonging to each other first of all." He took her hand and led her along the path, carpeted with pine needles and fallen leaves. "And then, when you are ready and willing—not before, love—we will go home—to my home—just like this, together."
She caught her breath. "Listen, for I am seeing visions too, now, as you have taught me. I will lead you through those halls and show you to all those dead ancestors, and I will dress you in a silken gown, the color of the evening star we used to watch together from our cabin door, and around your neck I will hang the yellow pearls that have been worn by all those great ladies who stared at you from out their frames of gold the day you came alone and unrecognized, bearing your priceless gift in your arms. You shall wear the rich old lace of the family on your