My own heart stood still for a second. Then there rose before me slowly,
but clearly, a vision--the vision which was not a dream.

"Out on the hillside," I murmured. "Out on the hillside."

I clung to her with both arms and held her tight. I understood now why
they had talked about The Fear. These two who were almost one soul
were trying to believe that they were not really to be torn apart--not
really. They were trying to heap up for themselves proof that they might
still be near each other. And, above all, his effort was to save her
from the worst, worst woe. And I understood, too, why something wiser
and stronger than myself had led me to tell the dream which was not a
dream at all.

But it was as she said; the world had not learned the Secret yet. And
there we stood. We did not cry or talk, but we clung to each other--we
CLUNG. That is all human creatures can do until the Secret is known. And
as we clung the nightingale broke out again.

"O nightingale! O nightingale!" she said in her low wonder of a voice.
"WHAT are you trying to tell us!"



CHAPTER VIII

What I feel sure I know by this time is that all the things we think
happen by chance and accident are only part of the weaving of the scheme
of life. When you begin to suspect this and to watch closely you also