"When the poor mother stumbled into the train that day," was one of the
things Hector told me, "I was thinking of The Fear and of my own mother.
You looked so slight and small as you sat in your corner that I thought
at first you were almost a child. Then a far look in your eyes made me
begin to watch you. You were so sorry for the poor woman that you could
not look away from her, and something in your face touched and puzzled
me. You leaned forward suddenly and put out your hand protectingly as
she stepped down on to the platform.

"That night when you spoke quite naturally of the child, never doubting
that I had seen it, I suddenly began to suspect. Because of The
Fear"--he hesitated--"I had been reading and thinking many things new to
me. I did not know what I believed. But you spoke so simply, and I knew
you were speaking the truth. Then you spoke just as naturally of Wee
Brown Elspeth. That startled me because not long before I had been told
the tale in the Highlands by a fine old story-teller who is the head of
his clan. I saw you had never heard the story before. And yet you were
telling me that you had played with the child."

"He came home and told me about you," Mrs. MacNairn said. "His fear of
The Fear was more for me than for himself. He knew that if he brought
you to me, you who are more complete than we are, clearer-eyed and
nearer, nearer, I should begin to feel that he was not going--out. I
should begin to feel a reality and nearness myself. Ah, Ysobel! How we
have clung to you and loved you! And then that wonderful afternoon! I
saw no girl with her hand through Mr. Le Breton's arm; Hector saw none.
But you saw her. She was THERE!"

"Yes, she was there," I answered. "She was there, smiling up at him. I