Nature here talked to her in a voice of supreme grandeur, and bade her never to be cast down but to go on bearing her winter with heroic calm.
She often stayed out the entire night and watched the stars fade and the dawn come--Phoebus with his sun chariot! Somehow Switzerland, although it was not at all the actual background, seemed to bring to her the atmosphere of her "Heroes." The lower hill near their village could certainly be Pelion, and one day she felt she had discovered Cheiron's cave.

This was a joy--and that night, when it rained and she and the Professor sat before their wood fire in the little inn parlor, with Aphrodite lying near them in her silken folds, she coaxed her old master into telling her those moving tales of old.
"You are indeed Cheiron, Master," she said--and then her eyes widened and she looked into the glowing ashes.

"And you have one pupil, who, like Heracles in his fight with the Centaurs, has accidentally wounded you.

But I want you not to let the poison of the arrow grow in your blood; the wound is not incurable as his was.

Master, why do you never speak to me now of Mr.Derringham ?" Cheiron frowned.