to reduce my satisfaction with life to the level above which man's happiness may not pass.
There was a curse on the hill! I felt it and realized it at that moment for the first time. I suppose I must have shown something of my brooding fear in my face, for Dick, looking round at me after a period of silence, said suddenly:—
"Cheer up Art, old chap! Surely you, at any rate, have no cause to be down on your luck! Of all men that live, I should think you ought to be about the very happiest!"
"That's it, old fellow," I answered. "I fear that there must be something terrible coming. I shall never be quite happy till Norah and all of us are quite away from the Hill."
"What on earth do you mean? Why, you have just bought the whole place!"
"It may seem foolish, Dick; but the words come back to me and keep ringing in my ears—'The Mountain holds—and it holds tight.'" Dick laughed:—
"Well, Art, it is not my fault, or Mr. Caicy's, if you don't hold it tight. It is yours now, every acre of it; and, if I don't mistake, you are going to make it in time—and not a long time either—into the fairest bower to which the best fellow ever brought the fairest lady! There now, Art, isn't that a pretty speech?"
Dick's words made me feel ashamed of myself, and I made an effort to pull myself together, which lasted until Dick and I said good-night.
