Athalie

His trustful gaze had altered, subtly. She noticed it.

"I suppose," she said, "you think I could have found out these things

through dishonest methods."

"I was thinking so.... I am satisfied that you are honest, Miss

Greensleeve."

"I really am--so far."

"Could you tell me how you learned my name and place of residence."

Her expression became even more serious: "I don't know, Mr. Symes....

I don't know how I knew it.... I think you wish me to help you find

your little grandchildren, too. But I don't know why I think so."

When he spoke, controlled emotion made his voice sound almost feeble.

He said: "Yes; find my little grandchildren and tell me what they are

doing." He passed a transparent hand unsteadily across his dim eyes:

"They are not living," he added. "They were lost at sea."

She said: "Nothing dies. Nothing is really lost."

"Why do you think so, child?"

"Because the whole world is gay and animated and lovely with what we

call 'the dead.' And, by the dead I mean all things great and small

that have ever lived."

He sat listening with all the concentration and rapt attention of a

child intent upon a fairy tale. She said, as though speaking to

herself: "You should see and hear the myriads of birds that have

'died'! The sky is full of their voices and their wings....

Everywhere--everywhere the lesser children live,--those long dead of

inhumanity or of that crude and temporary code which we call the law

of nature. All has been made up to them--whatever of cruelty and pain

they suffered--whatever rigour of the 'natural' law in that chain of

destruction which we call the struggle for existence.... For there is

only one real law, and it rules all of space that we can see, and more

of it than we can even imagine.... It is the law of absolute justice."

The old man nodded: "Do you believe that?"

She looked up at him dreamily: "Yes; I believe it. Or I should not

have said it."

"Has anybody ever told you this?"

"No.... I never even thought about it until this moment while

listening to my own words."... She lifted one hand and rested it

against her forehead: "I cannot seem to think of your grandchildren's

names.... Don't tell me."

She remained so for a few moments, motionless, then with a graceful

gesture and a shake of her pretty head: "No, I can't think of their

names. Do you suppose I could find them in the crystal?"