friendship. Perhaps you will not like me when you once come to know
me."

"Then I remain your disciple."

"Oh no," she flushed again, "you must already think me presumptuous
enough in venturing to give you advice. I have written so many foolish
things--"

"Indeed, no," he interrupted, "a thousand times no. Let me tell you
once for all, if I may, that you have taught me a great deal--far more
than you can ever understand, or than I can explain. Where did you get
your wisdom? Not from the Book of Human Life. Of that you cannot know
much as yet."

"The wisdom is in your imagination, I think. You shall not be my pupil
nor my disciple, but--well--because you have told me so much, and I
seem to have known you so long, and, besides, because you must never
feel ashamed of having told me so much, you shall come, if you please,
as my brother."

It was not till afterward that she reflected on the vast
responsibilities she incurred in making this proposal, and on the
eagerness with which her pupil accepted it.

"As your brother!" he cried, offering her his hand. "Why, it is
far--far more than I could have ventured to hope. Yes, I will come as
your brother. And now, although you know so much about me, you have
told me nothing about yourself--not even your name."