Bedient grappled with an obstacle he could not master.  In the silences of that day, something different from anything he had met before, closed in; a new order of atmosphere that altered the very tone and color of things.  It seemed not in the studio alone, but in the world.  Bedient fell into depths of thinking before it.  A sudden turn for the worst in a well-established convalescence, held something of the same startling confrontation.  There was no response to his willing it away.  It was fateful, encompassing.

Beth moved about the room, not ready at once to touch the picture.  She carried the little book in her hand....  Strong but mild winds were blowing.  Sudden gusts fell upon the skylight with the sound of spray, and sparrows scurried across the glass, their clawed feet moving swiftly about Mother Nature’s business.  The East ventilator shook, as if grimly holding on.

“A day like this always touches my nerves,” she said.  “The wind seems to bring a great loneliness out of the sea.”

“It’s pure land weather,” he answered, “damp, warm, aimless winds.  Now, if there was a strong, steady and chill East wind——­”

But she wouldn’t discuss what that might do.  “Loneliness,” she repeated.  “What a common lot!  One scarcely dares stop to think how lonely one is....  How many people do you know, who are happily companioned?  I’ve known only six in my life, and two of those were brother and sister.  It’s the dull, constant, ache at the human heart.  What’s the reason, do you suppose?”

“The urge to completion——­”

“I suppose it is, and almost never satisfied.  I think I should train children first and last for the stern trials of loneliness.  It’s almost necessary to have resources within one’s self——­”

“But how wonderful when real companions catch a glimpse of each other across some room of the world!” he said quietly.

“A tragedy more often than not,” she finished.  “One of them so often has built his house, and must abide.  Real companions never build their house upon the ruins of another.”

“That has a sound ring.”

“What is the reason for this everywhere, this forever loneliness?” she demanded, without lifting her eyes from the work.

“Something must drive,” he replied.  “You call it loneliness this morning.  It’s as good as any.  Great things come from yearning.  People of the crowd choose each other at random, under the pressure of passionate loneliness.  Greater human hearts vision their One.  Once in a while the One appears and answers the need—­and then there is happiness.  There is nothing quite so important as the happiness in each other of two great human hearts.  Don’t you see, it can exist hardly a moment, until it is adjusted to all time—­until its relation to eternity is firmly established?  When that comes, the world has another beautiful centre of pure energy to look at and admire and aspire to.  And the spirit of such a union never dies, but goes on augmenting until it becomes a great river in the world.