When school was out he declined the invitation of the boys to walk with them, and settled himself in his chair as though he meant to prepare the lessons for the next day.  After a quarter of an hour, spent mostly in revery, he rose, put up his books, closed the door, and took the same path he had followed the day before.  As he neared the spot where he had come on the girl, he almost expected to find her propped against the rock as he had found her the afternoon before.  He was conscious of a distinct shock of loneliness that she was not there.  The woods had never appeared so empty; the soughing of the pines had never sounded so dreary.

He threw himself down on the thick brown carpet.  He had not felt so lonely in years.  What was he!  And what chance did he have!  He was alone in the wilderness.  He had been priding himself on being the superior of those around him, and that strange woman had treated him with condescension, when he had strained his heart out to get her daughter to the road safely and without pain.

His eyes rested on the level, pale line of the horizon far below him.  Down there lay all he had ever known and loved.  All was changed; his home belonged to an alien.  He turned his face away.  On the other side, the distant mountains lay a mighty rampart across the sky.  He wondered if the Alps could be higher or more beautiful.  A line he had been explaining the day before to his scholars recurred to him:  “Beyond those mountains lies Italy.”

Gradually it came to him that he was duller than his scholars.  Those who were the true leaders of men surmounted difficulties.  Others had crossed the mountains to find the Italy of their ambition.  Why should not he?  The thought strung him up sharply, and before he knew it he was standing upright, his face lifted to the sky, his nerves tense, his pulses beating, and his breath coming quickly.  Beyond that blue rim lay the world.  He would conquer and achieve honors and fame, and win back his old home, and build up again his fortune, and do honor to his name.  He seized his books, and, with one more look at the heights beyond, turned and strode swiftly along the path.

It was, perhaps, fortunate that the day had been a dull one for both Mrs. Yorke and Alice.  Alice had been confined to her lounge, and after the first anxiety was over Mrs. Yorke had been inclined to scold her for her carelessness and the fright she had given her.  They had not agreed about a number of matters.  Alice had been talking about her adventure until Mrs. Yorke had begun to criticise her rescuer as “a spindling country boy.”

“He was strong enough to bring me down the mountain a mile in his arms,” declared the girl.  “He said it was half a mile, but I am sure it was a mile.”

Mrs. Yorke was shocked, and charged Alice with being susceptible enough to like all men.

“All those who are strong and good-looking,” protested Alice.

Their little difference had now been made up, and Alice, who had been sitting silent, with a look of serious reflection on her face, said: