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She looked about the room, out
at the great buildings all around, and then back to Karl, who seemed soul
of it all. How different all this was! What would her father think to
hear a man like Karl Hubers giving to a poet place in the developing of
the theory of evolution? What _was_ the difference between Karl and her
father? Was it that the school to which they belonged was itself
changing, or was it just a difference in type? Or, perhaps, most of all,
was it not a difference in degree? Her father had only seen a little way,
and that down a narrow path bounded by high walls of bigotry. Karl had
reached the heights from which he could see the oneness! And was it not
love had helped him to those heights?
A little later, when Karl was seeking to explain what he evidently
regarded as a very simple little thing, and just as a few glimmers of
light were beginning to penetrate her darkness, she looked up and at the
half open door saw a boy whose consternation at sight of her made it
difficult for Ernestine to repress a smile.


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