together move onward,--ceaselessly, inevitably, irresistibly."

He paused to stand smiling down at her, as she sat there in her low
chair beside the table with the lamplight on her silvery hair,--there in
the little log house by the river.

"That is what you have made your river mean to me, Auntie Sue; and that
is what I would give to the world."

With trembling hands, the gentle old teacher reached for her
handkerchief, which lay in the sewing-basket on the table beside her.
Smilingly, she wiped away the tears that filled her eyes. Lovingly,
she looked up at him,--standing so tall and strong before her, with his
reddish hair tumbled and tossed, and his Irish blue eyes lighted with
the fire of his inspiration.

"Well," she said, at last, "why don't you do it, Brian?"

As a breath of air puts out the light of a candle, so the light went
from Brian Kent's face. Dropping into his chair, he answered hopelessly,
"Because I am afraid."

"Afraid?" echoed Auntie Sue, troubled and amazed. "What in the world are
you afraid of, Brian?"

And the bitter, bitter answer came, "I am afraid of another failure."

Auntie Sue's quick mind caught the significance of his words. "ANOTHER
failure, Brian? Then you,--then you have written before?"