And in Nedda was so much of that night's unutterable youth--no wonder she was silent! Then, somehow--neither responsible--they stood motionless.

How quiet it was, but for a distant dog or two, and the stilly shivering-down of the water drops, and the far vibration of the million-voiced city! How quiet and soft and fresh! Then Nedda spoke: "Dad, I do so want to know everything." Not rousing even a smile, with its sublime immodesty, that aspiration seemed to Felix infinitely touching.

What less could youth want in the very heart of Spring?
And, watching her face put up to the night, her parted lips, and the moon-gleam fingering her white throat, he answered: "It'll all come soon enough, my pretty!" To think that she must come to an end like the rest, having found out almost nothing, having discovered just herself, and the particle of God that was within her! But he could not, of course, say this.
"I want to FEEL.

Can't I begin ?" How many millions of young creatures all the world over were sending up that white prayer to climb and twine toward the stars, and--fall to earth again! And nothing to be answered, but: "Time enough, Nedda!" "But, Dad, there are such heaps of things, such heaps of people, and reasons, and--and life; and I know nothing.

Dreams are the only times, it seems to me, that one finds out anything." "As for that, my child, I am exactly in your case.