Shy to illumine; and I seek it, too.
This does not come with houses or with gold,
With place, with honor, and a flattering crew:
'Tis not in the world's market bought and sold--
But the smooth-slipping weeks
Drop by, and leave its seeker still untired;
Out of the heed of mortals he is gone,
He wends unfollow'd, he must house alone;
Yet on he fares, by his own heart inspired."_

Section 1. On the train Corydon was writing a letter to a friend, to
say where she was going, and that Thyrsis was there. "I don't expect
to see anything of him," she wrote. "He grows more egotistical and
more contemptuous every day, and I cordially dislike him."

But when a man has spent three or four weeks with no company save
the squirrels and the owls, there comes over him a mood of
sociability, when the sight of a friendly face is an event. Thyrsis
had now written several chapters of his book, and the first fury of
his creative impulse had spent itself. So when Corydon stepped from
the train, she found him waiting there to greet her; and he told her
that he was laying in supplies for a feast, and that on the morrow
she and her mother were to come out and see his fairy-palace and
have a picnic dinner.

They came; and the May put on her finest raiment for their greeting.
The sun shone warm and bright, and there was a humming and stirring
in grass and thicket; one could feel the surge of the spring-time
growth as a living flood. There was a glory of young green over the
hill-sides, and a quivering sheen of white in the aspens and