"
"You are to be consoled for a hundred reasons. Doesn't
it console you to feel under your very feet the forces
that are working to the immense amelioration of a not
altogether undeserving people?"
"No," said Advena, rebelliously; and indeed he had been
a trifle didactic to her grievance. They laughed together,
and then with a look at her in which observation seemed
suddenly to awake, Finlay said--
"And those things aren't all, or nearly all. I sometimes
think that the human spirit, as it is set free in these
wide unblemished spaces, may be something more pure and
sensitive, more sincerely curious about what is good and
beautiful--"
He broke off, still gazing at her, as if she had been an
idea and no more. How much more she was she showed him
by a vivid and beautiful blush.
"I am glad you are so well satisfied," she said, and
then, as if her words had carried beyond their intention,
she blushed again.
Upon which Hugh Finlay saw his idea incarnate.
CHAPTER XV
If it were fair or adequate to so quote, I should be very
much tempted to draw the history of Lorne Murchison's
sojourn in England from his letters home. He put his
whole heart into these, his discoveries and his recognitions
and his young enthusiasm, all his claimed inheritance,
all that he found to criticize and to love.
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