BOOK III IN CAPUA AT LAST

XXII A grateful Carthaginian
XXIII more talk between young moderns
XXIV another brand of modern talk
XXV nothing in the least modern
XXVI Molly in her element
XXVII between Windward and Hemlock mountains
XXVIII Sylvia asks herself “Why not?”
XXIX A hypothetical livelihood
XXX Arnold continues to Dodge the renaissance
XXXI Sylvia meets with pity
XXXII much ado
XXXIII “Whom god hath joined...” 
XXXIV Sylvia tells the truth
XXXV “A milestone passed, the road seems clear”
XXXVI the road is not so clear
XXXVII “... His wife and children perceiving it, began
        to cry after him to return; but the man put his
        fingers in his ears and ran on, crying, ’Life! 
        Life Eternal!’”
XXXVIII Sylvia comes to the wicket gate
XXXIX Sylvia drifts with the majority

BOOK IV THE STRAIT PATH

XL A call from home
XLI home again
XLII “Strange that we creatures of the petty ways,
       Poor prisoners behind these fleshly bars,
       Can sometimes think us thoughts with God ablaze,
       Touching the fringes of the outer stars”
XLIII “Call now; is there any that will answer thee?”
XLIV “A bruised reed will He not break, and a dimly
       burning wick will He not quench”
XLV “That our soul may swim
      We sink our heart down, bubbling, under wave”
XLVI A long talk with Arnold
XLVII “...And all the trumpets sounded!”

THE BENT TWIG

BOOK I

IN ARCADIA

CHAPTER I

SYLVIA’S HOME

Like most happy childhoods, Sylvia’s early years lay back of her in a long, cheerful procession of featureless days, the outlines of which were blurred into one shimmering glow by the very radiance of their sunshine.  Here and there she remembered patches, sensations, pictures, scents:  Mother holding baby sister up for her to kiss, and the fragrance of the baby powder—­the pine-trees near the house chanting loudly in an autumn wind—­her