第5章

"Betteraskher，"Isuggested.

Ididn’tknowatthetimethatitwasasillythingtosay，andIamnotsurethatIshouldnothavesaiditifIhad.WhenheisinoneofhismoodsIalwaysseemtogetintooneofmine.IhavelookedafterMr.Johneversincehewasababy，sothatwedonoteitherofustreattheotherquiteasperhapsweoughtto.

"TellcookIwanther，"hesaid.

"Sheisjustinthemiddle——"Ibegan.

"Idon’tcarewheresheis，"hesaid.Heseemeddeterminednevertoletmefinishasentence."Sendheruphere."

Shewasinthekitchenbyherself.

"Hewantstoseeyouatonce，"Isaid.

"Whodoes？"sheasked.

"Mr.John，"Isaid.

"What’shewanttoseemefor？"sheasked.

"HowdoIknow？"Ianswered.

"Butyoudo，"shesaid.Shealwayshadanobstinatetwistinher，and，feelingitwouldsavetime，Itoldherwhathadhappened.

"Well，"Isaid，"aren’tyougoing？"

Shewasstandingstockstillstaringatthepastryshewasmaking.

Sheturnedtome，andtherewasacurioussmileaboutherlips.

"Doyouknowwhatyououghttobewearing？"shesaid."Wings，andalittlebowandarrow."

Shedidn’teventhinktowipeherhands，butwentstraightupstairs.

Itwasabouthalfanhourlaterwhenthebellrang.Mr.Johnwasstandingbythewindow.

"Isthatbagready？"hesaid.

"Itwillbe，"Isaid.

Iwentoutintothehallandreturnedwiththeclothesbrush.

"Whatareyougoingtodo？"hesaid.

"Perhapsyoudon’tknowit，"Isaid，"butyouarealloverflour."

"Cook’sgoingwithmetoScotland，"hesaid.

IhavelookedafterMr.Johneversincehewasaboy.Hewasforty—twolastbirthday，butwhenIshookhandswithhimthroughthecabwindowIcouldhaveswornhewastwenty—fiveagain.

THELESSON.

ThefirsttimeImethim，tomyknowledge，wasonanevil—smelling，one—funnelledsteamboatthatinthosedayspliedbetweenLondonBridgeandAntwerp.Hewaswalkingthedeckarm—in—armwithashowilydressedbutdecidedlyattractiveyoungwoman;bothofthemtalkingandlaughingloudly.Itstruckmeasodd，findinghimafellow—travellerbysucharoute.Thepassageoccupiedeighteenhours，andthefirst—classreturnfarewasonepoundtwelveandsix，includingthreemealseachway;drinks，asthecontractwascarefultoexplain，beingextra.IwasearningthirtyshillingsaweekatthetimeasclerkwithafirmofagentsinFenchurchStreet.OurbusinesswasthepurchasingofarticlesoncommissionforcustomersinIndia，andIhadlearnedtobeajudgeofvalues.Thebeaverlinedcoathewaswearing——fortheevening，althoughitwaslatesummer，waschilly——musthavecosthimacoupleofhundredpounds，whilehiscarelesslydisplayedjewelleryhecouldeasilyhavepawnedforathousandormore.

Icouldnothelpstaringathim，andonce，astheypassed，hereturnedmylook.

Afterdinner，asIwasleaningwithmybackagainstthegunwaleonthestarboardside，hecameoutoftheonlyprivatecabinthatthevesselboasted，andtakingupapositionoppositetome，withhislegswellapartandabigcigarbetweenhisthicklips，stoodcoollyregardingme，asifappraisingme.

"TreatingyourselftoalittleholidayontheContinent？"heinquired.

Ihadnotbeenquitesurebeforehespoke，buthislisp，thoughslight，betrayedtheJew.Hisfeatureswerecoarse，almostbrutal;

buttherestlesseyesweresobrilliant，thewholefacesosuggestiveofpowerandcharacter，that，takinghimasawhole，thefeelingheinspiredwasadmiration，temperedbyfear.Histonewasoneofkindlycontempt——thetoneofamanaccustomedtofindmostpeoplehisinferiors，andtoousedtothediscoverytobeconceitedaboutit.

Behinditwasanoteofauthoritythatitdidnotoccurtometodispute.

"Yes，"Ianswered，addingtheinformationthatIhadneverbeenabroadbefore，andhadheardthatAntwerpwasaninterestingtown.

"Howlonghaveyougot？"heasked.

"Afortnight，"Itoldhim.

"LiketoseeabitmorethanAntwerp，ifyoucouldaffordit，wouldn’tyou？"hesuggested."FascinatinglittlecountryHolland.

Justlongenough——afortnight——todothewholeofit.I’maDutchman，aDutchJew."

"YouspeakEnglishjustlikeanEnglishman，"Itoldhim.Itwassomehowinmymindtopleasehim.Icouldhardlyhaveexplainedwhy.

"Andhalfadozenotherlanguagesequallywell，"heanswered，laughing."IleftAmsterdamwhenIwaseighteenassteeragepassengerinanemigrantship.Ihaven’tseenitsince."

Heclosedthecabindoorbehindhim，and，crossingover，laidastronghandonmyshoulder.

"Iwillmakeaproposaltoyou，"hesaid."Mybusinessisnotofthekindthatcanbeputoutofmind，evenforafewdays，andtherearereasons"——heglancedoverhisshouldertowardsthecabindoor，andgaveventtoashortlaugh——"whyIdidnotwanttobringanyofmyownstaffwithme.Ifyoucareforashorttour，allexpensespaidatslap—uphotelsandaten—poundnoteinyourpocketattheend，youcanhaveitfortwohours’workaday."

Isupposemyfaceexpressedmyacceptance，forhedidnotwaitformetospeak.

"OnlyonethingIstipulatefor，"headded，"thatyoumindyourownbusinessandkeepyourmouthshut.You’rebyyourself，aren’tyou？"

"Yes，"Itoldhim.

Hewroteonasheetofhisnotebook，and，tearingitout，handedittome.

"That’syourhotelatAntwerp，"hesaid."YouareMr.HoratioJones’ssecretary."Hechuckledtohimselfasherepeatedthename，whichcertainlydidnotfithim."Knockatmysitting—roomdooratnineo’clocktomorrowmorning.Goodnight！"

Heendedtheconversationasabruptlyashehadbegunit，andreturnedtohiscabin.

Igotaglimpseofhimnextmorning，comingoutofthehotelbureau.

HewasspeakingtothemanagerinFrench，andhadevidentlygiveninstructionsconcerningme，forIfoundmyselfprecededbyanobsequiouswaitertoquiteacharmingbedroomonthesecondfloor，whilethe"Englishbreakfast"placedbeforemelaterinthecoffee—roomwasofasizeandcharacterthatinthosedaysIdidnotoftenenjoy.Aboutthework，also，hewasasgoodashisword.I

wasrarelyoccupiedformorethantwohourseachmorning.Thedutiesconsistedchieflyofwritinglettersandsendingofftelegrams.Thelettershesignedandhadpostedhimself，sothatI

neverlearnthisrealname——notduringthatfortnight——butI

gatheredenoughtobeawarethathewasamanwhosebusinessinterestsmusthavebeencolossalandworld—wide.

Heneverintroducedmeto"Mrs.HoratioJones，"andafterafewdaysheseemedtobeboredwithher，sothatoftenIwouldtakeherplaceashiscompanioninafternoonexcursions.

Icouldnothelplikingtheman.Strengthalwayscompelstheadorationofyouth;andtherewassomethingbigandheroicabouthim.Hisdaring，hisswiftdecisions，hisutterunscrupulousness，hisoccasionalcrueltywhennecessityseemedtodemandit.Onecouldimaginehiminearlierdaysabornleaderofsavagehordes，aloveroffightingforitsownsake，meetingallobstacleswithfiercewelcome，forcinghiswayonward，indifferenttothemiseryanddestructioncausedbyhisprogress，hiseyesneverswervingfromtheirgoal;yetnotwithoutasenseofroughjustice，notaltogetherwithoutkindlinesswhenitcouldbeindulgedinwithoutdanger.

OneafternoonhetookmewithhimintotheJewishquarterofAmsterdam，andthreadinghiswaywithouthesitationthroughitsmazeofunsavouryslums，pausedbeforeanarrowthree—storeyedhouseoverlookingastagnantbackwater.

"TheroomIwasbornin，"heexplained."Windowwiththebrokenpaneonthesecondfloor.Ithasneverbeenmended."

Istoleaglanceathim.Hisfacebetrayednosuggestionofsentiment，butratherofamusement.Heofferedmeacigar，whichI

wasgladof，forthestenchfromtheoffal—ladenwaterbehinduswasdistracting，andforawhilewebothsmokedinsilence：hewithhiseyeshalf—closed;itwasatrickofhiswhenworkingoutabusinessproblem.

"Curious，mymakingsuchachoice，"heremarked."Abutcher’sassistantformyfatherandaconsumptivebuttonhole—makerformymother.IsupposeIknewwhatIwasabout.Quitetherightthingformetohavedone，asitturnedout."

Istaredathim，wonderingwhetherhewasspeakingseriouslyoringrimjest.Hewasgivenattimestomakingoddremarks.Therewasaveinofthefantasticinhimthatwascontinuallycroppingoutandastonishingme.

"Itwasabitrisky，"Isuggested."Betterchoosesomethingalittlesafernexttime."

Helookedroundatmesharply，and，notquitesureofhismood，I

keptagraveface.

"Perhapsyouareright，"heagreed，withalaugh."Wemusthaveatalkaboutitoneday."

AfterthatvisittotheGoortgassehewaslessreservedwithme，andwouldoftentalktomeonsubjectsthatIshouldneverhaveguessedwouldhaveinterestedhim.Ifoundhimacuriousmixture.Behindtheshrewd，cynicalmanofbusinessIcaughtcontinualglimpsesofthevisionary.

IpartedfromhimatTheHague.HepaidmyfarebacktoLondon，andgavemeanextrapoundfortravellingexpenses，togetherwiththeten—poundnotehehadpromisedme.Hehadpackedoff"Mrs.HoratioJones"somedaysbefore，totherelief，Iimagine，ofbothofthem，andhehimselfcontinuedhisjourneytoBerlin.Ineverexpectedtoseehimagain，althoughforthenextfewmonthsIoftenthoughtofhim，andeventriedtodiscoverhimbyinquiriesintheCity.I

had，however，verylittletogoupon，andafterIhadleftFenchurchStreetbehindme，anddriftedintoliterature，Iforgothim.

UntilonedayIreceivedaletteraddressedtothecareofmypublishers.ItboretheSwisspostmark，andopeningitandturningtothesignatureIsatwonderingforthemomentwhereIhadmet"HoratioJones."AndthenIremembered.

Hewaslyingbruisedandbrokeninawoodcutter’shutontheslopesoftheJungfrau.Hadbeenplayingafool’strick，sohedescribedit，thinkinghecouldclimbmountainsathisage.TheywouldcarryhimdowntoLauterbrunnenassoonashecouldbemovedfartherwithsafety，butforthepresenthehadnoonetotalktobutthenurseandaSwissdoctorwhoclimbeduptoseehimeverythirdday.Hebeggedme，ifIcouldsparethetime，tocomeoverandspendaweekwithhim.Heenclosedahundred—poundchequeformyexpenses，makingnoapologyfordoingso.Hewascomplimentaryaboutmyfirstbook，whichhehadbeenreading，andaskedmetotelegraphhimmyreply，givingmehisrealname，which，asIhadguesseditwould，provedtobeoneofthebestknowninthefinancialworld.Mytimewasmyownnow，andIwiredhimthatIwouldbewithhimthefollowingMonday.

HewaslyinginthesunoutsidethehutwhenIarrivedlateintheafternoon，afterathree—hours’climbfollowedbyaportercarryingmysmallamountofluggage.Hecouldnotraisehishand，buthisstrangelybrillianteyesspoketheirwelcome.

"Iamgladyouwereabletocome，"hesaid."Ihavenonearrelations，andmyfriends——ifthatistherightterm——arebusinessmenwhowouldbeboredtotears.Besides，theyarenotthepeopleI

feelIwanttotalkto，now."

Hewasentirelyreconciledtothecomingofdeath.Indeed，thereweremomentswhenhegavemetheideathathewaslookingforwardtoitwithanawedcuriosity.Withtheconventionalnotionofcheeringhim，Italkedofstayingtillhewasabletoreturnwithmetocivilisation，butheonlylaughed.

"Iamnotgoingback，"hesaid."Notthatway.Whattheymaydoafterwardswiththesebrokenbonesdoesnotmuchconcerneitheryouorme.

"It’sagoodplacetodiein，"hecontinued."Amancanthinkuphere."

Itwasdifficulttofeelsorryforhim，hisownfateappearingtomakesolittledifferencetohimself.Theworldwasstillfullofinteresttohim——nothisownparticularcornerofit：that，hegavemetounderstand，hehadtidiedupanddismissedfromhismind.Itwasthefuture，itscomingproblems，itspossibilities，itsnewdevelopments，aboutwhichheseemedeagertotalk.Onemighthaveimaginedhimayoungmanwiththeyearsbeforehim.

Oneevening——itwasneartheend——wewerealonetogether.Thewoodcutterandhiswifehadgonedownintothevalleytoseetheirchildren，andthenurse，leavinghiminmycharge，hadgoneforawalk.WehadcarriedhimroundtohisfavouritesideofthehutfacingthetoweringmassoftheJungfrau.Astheshadowslengtheneditseemedtocomenearertous，andtherefellasilenceuponus.

GraduallyIbecameawarethathispiercingeyeswerefixedonme，andinanswerIturnedandlookedathim.

"Iwonderifweshallmeetagain，"hesaid，"or，whatismoreimportant，ifweshallrememberoneanother."

Iwaspuzzledforthemoment.Wehaddiscussedmorethanoncethevariousreligionsofmankind，andhisattitudetowardstheorthodoxbeliefshadalwaysbeenthatofamusedcontempt.

"Ithasbeengrowinguponmetheselastfewdays，"hecontinued.

"ItflashedacrossmethefirsttimeIsawyouontheboat.Wewerefellow—students.Something，Idon’tknowwhat，drewusveryclosetogether.Therewasawoman.Theywereburningher.Andthentherewasarushofpeopleandasuddendarkness，andyoureyesclosetomine."

Isupposeitwassomeformofhypnotism，for，ashespoke，hissearchingeyesfixedonmine，therecametomeadreamofnarrowstreetsfilledwithastrangecrowd，ofpaintedhousessuchasIhadneverseen，andahauntingfearthatseemedtobealwayslurkingbehindeachshadow.Ishookmyselffree，butnotwithoutaneffort.

"Sothat’swhatyoumeant，"Isaid，"thateveningintheGoortgasse.

Youbelieveinit？"

"Acuriousthinghappenedtome，"hesaid，"whenIwasachild.I

couldhardlyhavebeensixyearsold.IhadgonetoGhentwithmyparents.Ithinkitwastovisitsomerelative.Onedaywewentintothecastle.Itwasinruinsthen，buthassincebeenrestored.

Wewereinwhatwasoncethecouncilchamber.Istoleawaybymyselftotheotherendofthegreatroomand，notknowingwhyIdidso，Itouchedaspringconcealedinthemasonry，andadoorswungopenwithaharsh，grindingnoise.Irememberpeeringroundtheopening.Theothershadtheirbackstowardsme，andIslippedthroughandclosedthedoorbehindme.Iseemedinstinctivelytoknowmyway.IrandownaflightofstepsandalongdarkcorridorsthroughwhichIhadtofeelmywaywithmyhands，tillIcametoasmalldoorinanangleofthewall.Iknewtheroomthatlaytheotherside.Aphotographwastakenofitandpublishedyearsafterwards，whentheplacewasdiscovered，anditwasexactlyasI

knewitwithitswayoutunderneaththecitywallthroughoneofthesmallhousesintheAussermarkt.

"Icouldnotopenthedoor.Somestoneshadfallenagainstit，andfearingtogetpunished，Imademywaybackintothecouncilroom.

ItwasemptywhenIreachedit.Theyweresearchingformeintheotherrooms，andInevertoldthemofmyadventure."

AtanyothertimeImighthavelaughed.Later，recallinghistalkthatevening，Idismissedthewholestoryasmeresuggestion，basedupontheimaginationofachild;butatthetimethosestrangelybrillianteyeshadtakenpossessionofme.TheyremainedstillfixeduponmeasIsatonthelowrailoftheverandawatchinghiswhiteface，intowhichthehuesofdeathseemedalreadytobecreeping.

Ihadafeelingthat，throughthem，hewastryingtoforceremembranceofhimselfuponme.Themanhimself——theverysoulofhim——seemedtobeconcentratedinthem.Somethingformlessandyetdistinctwasvisualisingitselfbeforeme.Itcametomeasaphysicalreliefwhenaspasmofpaincausedhimtoturnhiseyesawayfromme.

"YouwillfindaletterwhenIamgone，"hewenton，afteramoment’ssilence."Ithoughtthatyoumightcometoolate，orthatImightnothavestrengthenoughtotellyou.IfeltthatoutofthefewpeopleIhavemetoutsidebusiness，youwouldbethemostlikelynottodismissthematterasmerenonsense.WhatIamgladofmyself，andwhatIwishyoutoremember，isthatIamdyingwithallmyfacultiesaboutme.TheonethingIhavealwaysfearedthroughlifewasoldage，withitsgradualmentaldecay.IthasalwaysseemedtomethatIhavediedmoreorlesssuddenlywhilestillinpossessionofmywill.IhavealwaysthankedGodforthat."

Heclosedhiseyes，butIdonotthinkhewassleeping;andalittlelaterthenursereturned，andwecarriedhimindoors.Ihadnofurtherconversationwithhim，thoughathiswishduringthefollowingtwodaysIcontinuedtoreadtohim，andonthethirddayhedied.

Ifoundtheletterhehadspokenof.Hehadtoldmewhereitwouldbe.Itcontainedabundleofbanknoteswhichhewasgivingme——sohewrote——withtheadvicetogetridofthemasquicklyaspossible.

"IfIhadnotlovedyou，"thelettercontinued，"Iwouldhaveleftyouanincome，andyouwouldhaveblessedme，insteadofcursingme，asyoushouldhavedone，forspoilingyourlife."

Thisworldwasaschool，soheviewedit，forthemakingofmen;andtheonethingessentialtoamanwasstrength.Onegatheredtheimpressionofadeeplyreligiousman.Inthesedayshewould，nodoubt，havebeenclaimedasatheosophist;buthisbeliefshehadmadefor，andadaptedto，himself——tohisvehement，conqueringtemperament.GodneededmentoserveHim——tohelpHim.So，throughmanychanges，throughmanyages，Godgavemenlife：thatbycontestandbystruggletheymighteverincreaseinstrength;tothosewhoprovedthemselvesmostfitthesternertask，thehumblerbeginnings，thegreaterobstacles.Andthecrownofwell—doingwasevervictory.Heappearedtohaveconvincedhimselfthathewasoneofthechosen，thathewasdestinedforgreatends.HehadbeenaslaveinthetimeofthePharaohs;apriestinBabylon;hadclungtotheswayingladdersinthesackofRome;hadwonhiswayintothecouncilswhenEuropewasabattlefieldofcontendingtribes;hadclimbedtopowerinthedaysoftheBorgias.

Tomostofus，Isuppose，therecomeatoddmomentshauntingthoughtsofstrangelyfamiliar，far—offthings;andonewonderswhethertheyarememoriesordreams.Wedismissthemaswegrowolderandthepresentwithitscrowdinginterestsshutsthemout;

butinyouththeyweremorepersistent.Withhimtheyappearedtohaveremained，growinginreality.Hisrecentexistence，closedunderthewhitesheetinthehutbehindmeasIread，wasonlyonechapterofthestory;hewaslookingforwardtothenext.

Hewondered，sotheletterran，whetherhewouldhaveanyvoiceinchoosingit.Ineithereventhewascuriousoftheresult.Whatheanticipatedconfidentlywerenewopportunities，widerexperience.

Inwhatshapewouldthesecometohim？

Theletterendedwithastrangerequest.Itwasthat，onreturningtoEngland，Ishouldcontinuetothinkofhim：notofthedeadmanIhadknown，theJewishbanker，thevoicefamiliartome，thetrickofspeech，ofmanner——allsuchbeingbutthechangingclothes——butofthemanhimself，thesoulofhim，thatwouldseekandperhapssucceedinrevealingitselftome.

Apostscriptconcludedtheletter，towhichatthetimeIattachednoimportance.Hehadmadeapurchaseofthehutinwhichhehaddied.Afterhisremovalitwastoremainempty.

Ifoldedtheletterandplaceditamongotherpapers，andpassingintothehuttookafarewellglanceatthemassive，ruggedface.

Themaskmighthaveservedasculptorfortheembodimentofstrength.Hegaveonethefeelingthathavingconquereddeathhewassleeping.

Ididwhathehadrequestedofme.Indeed，Icouldnothelpit.I

thoughtofhimconstantly.Thatmayhavebeentheexplanationofit.

IwasbicyclingthroughNorfolk，andoneafternoon，toescapeacomingthunderstorm，Iknockedatthedoorofalonelycottageontheoutskirtsofacommon.Thewoman，akindlybustlingperson，askedmein;andhopingIwouldexcuseher，asshewasbusyironing，returnedtoherworkinanotherroom.Ithoughtmyselfalone，andwasstandingatthewindowwatchingthepouringrain.Afterawhile，withoutknowingwhy，Iturned.AndthenIsawachildseatedonahighchairbehindatableinadarkcorneroftheroom.Abookofpictureswasopenbeforeit，butitwaslookingatme.Icouldhearthesoundofthewomanatherironingintheotherroom.

Outsidetherewasthesteadythrashingoftherain.Thechildwaslookingatmewithlarge，roundeyesfilledwithaterriblepathos.

Inoticedthatthelittlebodywasmisshapen.Itnevermoved;itmadenosound;butIhadthefeelingthatoutofthosestrangelywistfuleyessomethingwastryingtospeaktome.Somethingwasformingitselfbeforeme——notvisibletomysight;butitwasthere，intheroom.ItwasthemanIhadlastlookeduponas，dying，hesatbesidemeinthehutbelowtheJungfrau.Butsomethinghadhappenedtohim.MovedbyinstinctIwentovertohimandliftedhimoutofhischair，andwithasobthelittlewizenedarmsclosedroundmyneckandheclungtomecrying——apitiful，low，wailingcry.

Hearinghiscry，thewomancameback.Acomely，healthy—lookingwoman.Shetookhimfrommyarmsandcomfortedhim.

"Hegetsabitsorryforhimselfattimes，"sheexplained."Atleast，soIfancy.Yousee，hecan’trunaboutlikeotherchildren，ordoanythingwithoutgettingpains."

"Wasitanaccident？"Iasked.

"No，"sheanswered，"andhisfatherasfineamanasyouwouldfindinaday’smarch.JustavisitationofGod，astheytellme.SureIdon’tknowwhy.Thereneverwasabetterlittlelad，andclever，too，whenhe’snotinpain.Drawswonderfully."

Thestormhadpassed.Hegrewquieterinherarms，andwhenIhadpromisedtocomeagainandbringhimanewpicture—book，alittlegratefulsmileflickeredacrossthedrawnface，buthewouldnottalk.

Ikeptintouchwithhim.Merecuriositywouldhavemademedothat.Hegrewmorenormalastheyearswentby，andgraduallythefancythathadcometomeatourfirstmeetingfadedfartherintothebackground.Sometimes，usingtheverylanguageofthedeadman’sletter，Iwouldtalktohim，wonderingifbyanychancesomeflashofmemorywouldcomebacktohim，andonceortwiceitseemedtomethatintothemild，patheticeyestherecamealookthatIhadseenbefore，butitpassedaway，andindeed，itwasdifficulttothinkofthissadlittlehumanoddity，withitspleadinghelplessness，inconnectionwiththestrong，swift，conqueringspiritthatIhadwatchedpassingawayamidthesilenceofthemountains.

Theonethingthatbroughtjoytohimwashisart.Icannothelpthinkingthat，butforhishealth，hewouldhavemadeanameforhimself.Hisworkwasalwayscleverandoriginal，butitwastheworkofaninvalid.

"Ishallneverbegreat，"hesaidtomeonce."Ihavesuchwonderfuldreams，butwhenitcomestoworkingthemoutthereissomethingthathampersme.Italwaysseemstomeasifatthelastmomentahandwasstretchedoutthatclutchedmebythefeet.I

longso，butIhavenotthestrength.Itisterribletobeoneoftheweaklings."

Itclungtome，thatwordhehadused.Foramantoknowheisweak;itsoundsaparadox，butamanmustbestrongtoknowthat.

Anddwellinguponthis，anduponhispatienceandhisgentleness，therecametomesuddenlyremembranceofthatpostscript，thesignificanceofwhichIhadnotunderstood.

Hewasayoungmanofaboutthree—orfour—and—twentyatthetime.

Hisfatherhaddied，andhewaslivinginpoorlodgingsinthesouthofLondon，supportinghimselfandhismotherbystrenuous，ill—paidwork.

"Iwantyoutocomewithmeforafewdays’holiday，"Itoldhim.

Ihadsomedifficultyingettinghimtoacceptmyhelp，forhewasveryproudinhissensitive，apologeticway.ButIsucceededeventually，persuadinghimitwouldbegoodforhiswork.

Physicallythejourneymusthavecosthimdear，forhecouldnevermovehisbodywithoutpain，butthechanginglandscapesandthestrangecitiesmorethanrepaidhim;andwhenonemorningIwokehimearlyandhesawforthefirsttimethedistantmountainsclothedindawn，therecameanewlightintohiseyes.

Wereachedthehutlateintheafternoon.Ihadmademyarrangementssothatweshouldbetherealone.Ourneedsweresimple，andinvariouswanderingsIhadlearnttobeindependent.I

didnottellhimwhyIhadbroughthimthere，beyondthebeautyandstillnessoftheplace.PurposelyIlefthimmuchalonethere，makingever—lengtheningwalksmyexcuse，andthoughhewasalwaysgladofmyreturnIfeltthatthedesirewasgrowinguponhimtobetherebyhimself.

Oneevening，havingclimbedfartherthanIhadintended，Ilostmyway.Itwasnotsafeinthatneighbourhoodtotrynewpathwaysinthedark，andchancinguponadesertedshelter，Imademyselfabeduponthestraw.

IfoundhimseatedoutsidethehutwhenIreturned，andhegreetedmeasifhehadbeenexpectingmejustatthatmomentandnotbefore.Heguessedjustwhathadhappened，hetoldme，andhadnotbeenalarmed.DuringthedayIfoundhimwatchingme，andintheevening，aswesatinhisfavouriteplaceoutsidethehut，heturnedtome.

"Youthinkittrue？"hesaid."ThatyouandIsathereyearsagoandtalked？"

"Icannottell，"Ianswered."Ionlyknowthathediedhere，iftherebesuchathingasdeath——thatnoonehaseverlivedheresince.Idoubtifthedoorhaseverbeenopenedtillwecame."

"Theyhavealwaysbeenwithme，"hecontinued，"thesedreams.ButI

havealwaysdismissedthem.Theyseemedsoludicrous.Alwaystherecametomewealth，power，victory.Lifewassoeasy."

Helaidhisthinhandonmine.Astrangenewlookcameintohiseyes——alookofhope，almostofjoy.

"Doyouknowwhatitseemstome？"hesaid."Youwilllaughperhaps，butthethoughthascometomeupherethatGodhassomefineuseforme.Successwasmakingmefeeble.HehasgivenmeweaknessandfailurethatImaylearnstrength.Thegreatthingistobestrong."

SYLVIAOFTHELETTERS.

OldAbHerrick，somostpeoplecalledhim.Notthathewasactuallyold;thetermwasanexpressionoflikingratherthananyreflectiononhisyears.Helivedinanold—fashionedhouse——old—fashioned，thatis，forNewYork——onthesouthsideofWestTwentiethStreet：

onceuponatime，butthatwaslongago，quiteafashionablequarter.Thehouse，togetherwithMrs.Travers，hadbeenlefthimbyamaidenaunt.An"apartment"would，ofcourse，havebeenmoresuitabletoabachelorofsimplehabits，butthesituationwasconvenientfromajournalisticpointofview，andforfifteenyearsAbnerHerrickhadlivedandworkedthere.

Thenoneevening，afterathreedays’absence，AbnerHerrickreturnedtoWestTwentiethStreet，bringingwithhimalittlegirlwrappedupinashawl，andawoodenboxtiedwithapieceofcord.

Heputtheboxonthetable;andtheyounglady，looseninghershawl，walkedtothewindowandsatdownfacingtheroom.

Mrs.Traverstooktheboxoffthetableandputitonthefloor——itwasquitealittlebox——andwaited.

"Thisyounglady，"explainedAbnerHerrick，"isMissAnnKavanagh，daughterof——ofanoldfriendofmine."

"Oh！"saidMrs.Travers，andremainedstillexpectant.

"MissKavanagh，"continuedAbnerHerrick，"willbestayingwithusfor——"HeappearedtobeuncertainofthelengthofMissKavanagh’svisit.Heleftthesentenceunfinishedandtookrefugeinmorepressingquestions.

"Whataboutthebedroomonthesecondfloor？Isitready？Sheetsaired——allthatsortofthing？"

"Itcanbe，"repliedMrs.Travers.Thetonewassuggestiveofjudgmentreserved.

"Ithink，ifyoudon’tmind，Mrs.Travers，thatwe’dliketogotobedassoonaspossible."FromforceofhabitAbnerS.Herrickinspeakingemployedasaruletheeditorial"we.""Wehavebeentravellingalldayandweareverytired.To—morrowmorning——"

"I’dlikesomesupper，"saidMissKavanaghfromherseatinthewindow，withoutmoving.

"Ofcourse，"agreedMissKavanagh’shost，withafeeblepretencethatthesubjecthadbeenonthetipofhistongue.Asamatteroffact，hereallyhadforgottenallaboutit."Wemighthaveitupherewhiletheroomisbeinggotready.Perhapsalittle——"

"Asoftboiledeggandaglassofmilk，ifyouplease，Mrs.

Travers，"interruptedMissKavanagh，stillfromherseatatthewindow.

"I’llseeaboutit，"saidMrs.Travers，andwentout，takingthequitesmallboxwithher.

SuchwasthecomingintothisstoryofAnnKavanaghattheageofeightyears;or，asMissKavanaghherselfwouldhaveexplained，hadthequestionbeenputtoher，eightyearsandsevenmonths，forAnnKavanaghwasapreciseyounglady.Shewasnotbeautiful——notthen.

Shewasmuchtoosharpfeatured;thelittlepointedchinprotrudingintospacetoquiteadangerousextent.Herlargedarkeyeswereheroneredeemingfeature.Butthelevelbrowsabovethemweremuchtooreadywiththeirfrown.Asallowcomplexionandnondescripthairdeprivedherofthatcharmofcolouringonwhichyouthcangenerallydependforattraction，whateveritsfaultsofform.Norcouldittruthfullybesaidthatsweetnessofdispositionaffordedcompensation.

"Aself—willed，cantankerouslittleimpIcallher，"wasMrs.

Travers’scomment，expressedafteroneofthemanytrialsofstrengthbetweenthem，fromwhichMissKavanaghhadasusualemergedtriumphant.

"It’sherfather，"explainedAbnerHerrick，feelinghimselfunabletocontradict.

"It’sunfortunate，"answeredMrs.Travers，"whateveritis."

ToUncleAbhimself，asshehadcometocallhim，shecouldonoccasionbeyieldingandaffectionate;butthat，asMrs.Traverstookcaretopointouttoher，wasasmallthingtohercredit.

"IfyouhadtheinstinctsofanordinaryChristianchild，"explainedMrs.Traverstoher，"you’dbethinkingtwenty—fourhoursadayofwhatyoucoulddotorepayhimforallhislovingkindnesstoyou;

insteadofcausinghim，asyouknowyoudo，adozenheartachesinaweek.You’reanungratefullittlemonkey，andwhenhe’sgoneyou’ll——"

UponwhichMissKavanagh，notwaitingtohearmore，flewupstairsand，lockingherselfinherownroom，gaveherselfuptohowlingandremorse;butwascarefulnottoemergeuntilshefeltbadtemperedagain;andable，shouldopportunitypresentitself，torenewthecontestwithMrs.Traversunhamperedbysentiment.

ButMrs.Travers’swordshadsunkindeeperthanthatgoodladyherselfhadhopedfor;andoneevening，whenAbnerHerrickwasseatedathisdeskpenningascathingindictmentofthePresidentforlackoffirmnessanddecisiononthetariffquestion，Ann，puttingherthinarmsroundhisneckandrubbingherlittlesallowfaceagainsthisright—handwhisker，tookhimtotaskonthesubject.

"You’renotbringingmeupproperly——notasyououghtto，"explainedAnn."Yougivewaytometoomuch，andyouneverscoldme."

"Notscoldyou！"exclaimedAbnerwithacertainwarmthofindignation."Why，I’mdoingitall——"

"Notwhat_I_callscolding，"continuedAnn."It’sverywrongofyou.Ishallgrowuphorridifyoudon’thelpme."

AsAnnwithgreatclearnesspointedouttohim，therewasnooneelsetoundertakethejobwithanychanceofsuccess.IfAbnerfailedher，thenshesupposedtherewasnohopeforher：shewouldendbybecomingawickedwoman，andeverybody，includingherself，wouldhateher.Itwasasadprospect.ThecontemplationofitbroughttearstoAnn’seyes.

Hesawthejusticeofhercomplaintandpromisedtoturnoveranewleaf.Hehonestlymeanttodoso;but，likemanyanotherrepentantsinner，foundhimselffeeblebeforethedifficultiesofperformance.

Hemighthavesucceededbetterhaditnotbeenforhersoftdeepeyesbeneathherlevelbrows.

"You’renotmuchlikeyourmother，"soheexplainedtoheroneday，"exceptabouttheeyes.LookingintoyoureyesIcanalmostseeyourmother."

Hewassmokingapipebesidethefire，andAnn，whooughttohavebeeninbed，hadperchedherselfupononeofthearmsofhischairandwaskickingaholeinthewornleatherwithherlittleheels.

"Shewasverybeautiful，mymother，wasn’tshe？"suggestedAnn.

AbnerHerrickblewacloudfromhispipeandwatchedcarefullythecurlingsmoke.

"Inaway，yes，"heanswered."Quitebeautiful."

"Whatdoyoumean，’Inaway’？"demandedAnnwithsomeasperity.

"Itwasaspiritualbeauty，yourmother’s，"Abnerexplained."Thesoullookingoutofhereyes.Idon’tthinkitpossibletoimagineamorebeautifuldispositionthanyourmother’s.WheneverIthinkofyourmother，"continuedAbnerafterapause，"Wordsworth’slinesalwayscomeintomymind."

Hemurmuredthequotationtohimself，butloudenoughtobeheardbysharpears.MissKavanaghwasmollified.

"Youwereinlovewithmymother，weren’tyou？"shequestionedhimkindly.

"Yes，IsupposeIwas，"musedAbner，stillwithhisgazeuponthecurlingsmoke.

"Whatdoyoumeanby’yousupposeyouwere’？"snappedAnn."Didn’tyouknow？"

Thetonerecalledhimfromhisdreams.

"Iwasinlovewithyourmotherverymuch，"hecorrectedhimself，turningtoherwithasmile.

"Thenwhydidn’tyoumarryher？"askedAnn."Wouldn’tshehaveyou？"

"Ineveraskedher，"explainedAbner.

"Whynot？"persistedAnn，returningtoasperity.

Hethoughtamoment.

"Youwouldn’tunderstand，"hetoldher.

"Yes，Iwould，"retortedAnn.

"No，youwouldn’t，"hecontradictedherquiteshortly.Theywerebothbeginningtolosepatiencewithoneanother."Nowomanevercould."

"I’mnotawoman，"explainedAnn，"andI’mverysmart.You’vesaidsoyourself."

"Notsosmartasallthat，"growledAbner."Addedtowhich，it’stimeforyoutogotobed."

Herangerwithhimwassuchthatitrenderedherabsolutelypolite.

Ithadthatoccasionaleffectuponher.Sheslidfromthearmofhischairandstoodbesidehim，arigidfigureoffrozenfemininity.

"Ithinkyouarequiteright，UncleHerrick.Goodnight！"Butatthedoorshecouldnotresistapartingshot：

"Youmighthavebeenmyfather，andthenperhapsshewouldn’thavedied.Ithinkitwasverywickedofyou."

AftershewasgoneAbnersatgazingintothefire，andhispipewentout.Eventuallythebeginningsofasmilestoletothecornersofhismouth，butbeforeitcouldspreadanyfartherhedismisseditwithasigh.

Abner，forthenextdayortwo，fearedarenewaloftheconversation，butAnnappearedtohaveforgottenit;andastimewentbyitfadedfromAbner’sownmemory.Untiloneeveningquiteawhilelater.

ThemorninghadbroughthimhisEnglishmail.Ithadbeenarrivingwithsomeregularity，andAnnhadnoticedthatAbneralwaysopeneditbeforehisothercorrespondence.Oneletterhereadthroughtwice，andAnn，whowaspretendingtobereadingthenewspaper，feltthathewaslookingather.

"Ihavebeenthinking，mydear，"saidAbner，"thatitmustberatherlonelyforyouhere，allbyyourself."

"Itwouldbe，"answeredAnn，"ifIwerehereallbymyself."

"Imean，"saidAbner，"withoutanyotheryoungpersontotalktoand——andtoplaywith."

"Youforget，"saidAnn，"thatI’mnearlythirteen."

"Godblessmysoul，"saidAbner."Howtimedoesfly！"

"Whoisshe？"askedAnn.

"Itisn’ta’she，’"explainedAbner."It’sa’he.’Poorlittlechaplosthismothertwoyearsago，andnowhisfather’sdead.I

thought——itoccurredtomewemightputhimupforatime.Lookafterhimabit.Whatdoyouthink？Itwouldmakethehousemorelively，wouldn’tit？"

"Itmight，"saidAnn.

Shesatverysilent，andAbner，whoseconsciencewastroublinghim，watchedheralittleanxiously.Afteratimeshelookedup.

"What’shelike？"sheasked.

"PreciselywhatIamwonderingmyself，"confessedAbner."Weshallhavetowaitandsee.Buthismother——hismother，"repeatedAbner，"wasthemostbeautifulwomanIhaveeverknown.Ifheisanythinglikeshewasasagirl——"Heleftthesentenceunfinished.

"Youhavenotseenhersince——sinceshewasyoung？"questionedAnn.

Abnershookhishead."ShemarriedanEnglishman.HetookherbackwithhimtoLondon."

"Idon’tlikeEnglishmen，"saidAnn.

"Theyhavetheirpoints，"suggestedAbner."Besides，boystakeaftertheirmothers，theysay."AndAbnerroseandgatheredhisletterstogether.

Annremainedverythoughtfulallthatday.Intheevening，whenAbnerforamomentlaiddownhispenforthepurposeofrelightinghispipe，Anncametohim，seatingherselfonthecornerofthedesk.

"Isuppose，"shesaid，"that’swhyyounevermarriedmother？"

Abner’smindatthemomentwasmuchoccupiedwiththePanamaCanal.

"Whatmother？"heasked."Whosemother？"

"Mymother，"answeredAnn."Isupposemenarelikethat."

"Whatareyoutalkingabout？"saidAbner，dismissingaltogetherthePanamaCanal.

"Youlovedmymotherverymuch，"explainedAnnwithcolddeliberation."ShealwaysmadeyouthinkofWordsworth’sperfectwoman."

"Whotoldyouallthat？"demandedAbner.

"Youdid."

"Idid？"

"ItwasthedayyoutookmeawayfromMissCarew’sbecauseshesaidshecouldn’tmanageme，"Anninformedhim.

"GoodLord！Why，thatmustbetwoyearsago，"musedAbner.

"Three，"Anncorrectedhim."Allbutafewdays."

"Iwishyou’duseyourmemoryforthingsyou’rewantedtoremember，"

growledAbner.

"Yousaidyouhadneveraskedhertomarryyou，"pursuedAnnrelentlessly;"youwouldn’ttellmewhy.YousaidIshouldn’tunderstand."

"Myfault，"mutteredAbner."Iforgetyou’reachild.Youaskallsortsofquestionsthatneveroughttoenteryourhead，andI’mfoolenoughtoansweryou."

Onesmalltearthathadmadeitsescapeunnoticedbyherwasstealingdownhercheek.Hewipeditawayandtookoneofhersmallpawsinbothhishands.

"Ilovedyourmotherverydearly，"hesaidgravely."Ihadlovedherfromachild.Butnowomanwilleverunderstandthepowerthatbeautyhasuponaman.Youseewe’rebuiltthatway.It’sNature’slure.Lateron，ofcourse，Imighthaveforgotten;butthenitwastoolate.Canyouforgiveme？"

"Butyoustillloveher，"reasonedAnnthroughhertears，"oryouwouldn’twanthimtocomehere."

"Shehadsuchahardtimeofit，"pleadedAbner."Itmadethingseasiertoher，mygivinghermywordthatIwouldalwayslookaftertheboy.You’llhelpme？"

"I’lltry，"saidAnn.Buttherewasnotmuchpromiseinthetone.

NordidMatthewPolehimself，whenhearrived，domuchtohelpmatters.HewassohopelesslyEnglish.Atleast，thatwasthewayAnnputit.Hewasshyandsensitive.Itisatryingcombination.

Itmadehimappearstupidandconceited.Alonelychildhoodhadrenderedhimunsociable，unadaptable.Adreamy，imaginativetemperamentimposeduponhimlongmoodsofsilence：alikingforlongsolitarywalks.ForthefirsttimeAnnandMrs.Traverswereinagreement.

"Asulkyyoungdog，"commentedMrs.Travers."IfIwereyouruncleI’dlookoutforajobforhiminSanFrancisco."

"Yousee，"saidAnninexcuseforhim，"it’ssuchafoggycountry，England.Itmakesthemlikethat."

"It’sapitytheycan’tgetoutofit，"saidMrs.Travers.

Also，sixteenisanawkwardageforaboy.Virtues，stillinthechrysalisstate，arestrugglingtoescapefromtheirparentvices.

Pride，anexcellentqualitymakingforcourageandpatience，stillappearsintheswathingsofarrogance.Sinceritystillexpressesitselfinthelanguageofrudeness.Kindnessitselfisapttobemistakenforamazingimpertinenceandloveofinterference.

Itwaskindness——agenuinedesiretobeuseful，thatpromptedhimtopointouttoAnnherundoubtedfaultsandfailings，nervedhimtothetaskofbringingherupinthewaysheshouldgo.Mrs.Travershadlongsincewashedherhandsoftheentirebusiness.UncleAb，asMatthewalsocalledhim，hadprovedhimselfaweakling.

Providence，soitseemedtoMatthew，musthavebeenwaitingimpatientlyforhisadvent.Annatfirstthoughtitwassomenewschoolofhumour.Whenshefoundhewasseriousshesetherselftocurehim.Butsheneverdid.Hewastooconscientiousforthat.

Theinstinctsoftheguide，philosopher，andfriendtohumanityingeneralwerealreadytoostronginhim.ThereweretimeswhenAbneralmostwishedthatMatthewPoleseniorhadlivedalittlelonger.

Buthedidnotlosehope.Atthebackofhismindwasthefancythatthesetwochildrenofhisloveswouldcometogether.Nothingisquitesosentimentalasahealthyoldbachelor.Hepicturedthemmakingunityfromhisconfusions;inimaginationheardthepatteronthestairsoftinyfeet.Toallintentsandpurposeshewouldbeagrandfather.Pridinghimselfonhiscunning，hekepthisdreamtohimself，ashethought，butunder—estimatedAnn’ssmartness.

FordaystogethershewouldfollowMatthewwithhereyes，watchinghimfrombehindherlonglashes，listeninginsilencetoeverythinghesaid，vainlyseekingtofindpointsinhim.Hewasunawareofhergenerousintentions.Hehadavaguefeelinghewasbeingcriticised.Heresentediteveninthosedays.

"Idotry，"saidAnnsuddenlyoneeveningaproposofnothingatall.

"NoonewilleverknowhowhardItrynottodislikehim."

Abnerlookedup.

"Sometimes，"continuedAnn，"ItellmyselfIhavealmostsucceeded.

Andthenhewillgoanddosomethingthatwillbringitallonagain."

"Whatdoeshedo？"askedAbner.

"Oh，Ican’ttellyou，"confessedAnn."IfItoldyouitwouldsoundasifitwasmyfault.It’sallsosilly.Andthenhethinkssuchalotofhimself.Ifoneonlyknewwhy！Hecan’ttellyouhimselfwhenyouaskhim."

"Youhaveaskedhim？"queriedAbner.

"Iwantedtoknow，"explainedAnn."IthoughttheremightbesomethinginhimthatIcouldlike."

"Whydoyouwanttolikehim？"askedAbner，wonderinghowmuchshehadguessed.

"Iknow，"wailedAnn."YouarehopingthatwhenIamgrownupI

shallmarryhim.AndIdon’twantto.It’ssoungratefulofme."

"Well，you’renotgrownupyet，"Abnerconsoledher."Andsolongasyouarefeelinglikethataboutit，I’mnotlikelytowantyoutomarryhim."

"Itwouldmakeyousohappy，"sobbedAnn.

"Yes，butwe’vegottothinkoftheboy，don’tforgetthat，"laughedAbner."Perhapshemightobject."

"Hewould.Iknowhewould，"criedAnnwithconviction."He’snobetterthanIam."

"Haveyoubeenaskinghimto？"demandedAbner，springingupfromhischair.

"Nottomarryme，"explainedAnn."ButItoldhimhemustbeanunnaturallittlebeastnottotrytolikemewhenheknewhowyoulovedme."

"Helpfulwayofputtingit，"growledAbner."Andwhatdidhesaytothat？"

"Admittedit，"flashedAnnindignantly."Saidhehadtried."

Abnersucceededinpersuadingherthatthepathofdignityandvirtuelayinherdismissingthewholesubjectfromhermind.

Hehadmadeamistake，sohetoldhimself.Agemaybeattractedbycontrast，butyouthhasnouseforitsopposite.HewouldsendMatthewaway.Hecouldreturnforweek—ends.Continuallysoclosetooneanother，theysawonlyoneanother’sspecksandflaws;thereisnobeautywithoutperspective.Matthewwantedthecornersrubbedoffhim，thatwasall.Mixingmorewithmen，hispriggishnesswouldbelaughedoutofhim.Otherwisehewasquiteadecentyoungster，cleanminded，highprincipled.Clever，too：heoftensaidquiteunexpectedthings.Withapproachingwomanhood，changesweretakingplaceinAnn.Seeinghereverydayonehardlynoticedthem;butthereweretimeswhen，standingbeforehimflushedfromawalkorbendingoverhimtokisshimbeforestartingforsomefriendlydance，Abnerwouldblinkhiseyesandbepuzzled.Thethinarmsweregrowingroundandfirm;thesallowcomplexionwarmingintoolive;theoncepatchy，mouse—colouredhairdarkeningintoarichharmonyofbrown.Theeyesbeneathherlevelbrows，thathadalwaysbeenhercharm，stillremindedAbnerofhermother;buttherewasmorelightinthem，moredanger.

"I’llrundowntoAlbanyandtalktoJephsonabouthim，"decidedAbner."HecancomehomeonSaturdays."

Theplotmighthavesucceeded：onenevercantell.ButaNewYorkblizzardputastoptoit.Thecarsbrokedown，andAbner，walkinghomeinthinshoesfromameeting，caughtachill，which，beingneglected，provedfatal.

Abnerwastroubledashelayuponhisbed.Thechildrenweresittingverysilentbythewindow.HesentMatthewoutonamessage，andthenbeckonedAnntocometohim.Helovedtheboy，too，butAnnwasnearertohim.

"Youhaven’tthoughtanymore，"hewhispered，"about——"

"No，"answeredAnn."Youwishedmenotto."

"Youmustneverthink，"hesaid，"toshowyourloveformymemorybydoinganythingthatwouldnotmakeyouhappy.IfIamanywherearound，"hecontinuedwithasmile，"itwillbeyourgoodIshallbewatchingfor，notmyownway.Youwillrememberthat？"

Hehadmeanttodomoreforthem，buttheendhadcomesomuchsoonerthanhehadexpected.ToAnnheleftthehouse（Mrs.Travershadalreadyretiredonasmallpension）andasumthat，judiciouslyinvested，thefriendandattorneythoughtshouldbesufficientforherneeds，evensupposing——Thefriendandattorney，pausingtodwellupontheovalfacewithitsdarkeyes，leftthesentenceunfinished.

ToMatthewhewrotealovingletter，enclosingathousanddollars.

HeknewthatMatthew，nowinapositiontoearnhislivingasajournalist，wouldratherhavetakennothing.Itwastobelookeduponmerelyasapartinggift.Matthewdecidedtospenditontravel.Itwouldfithimthebetterforhisjournalisticcareer，soheexplainedtoAnn.Butinhishearthehadotherambitions.Itwouldenablehimtoputthemtothetest.

SotherecameaneveningwhenAnnstoodwavingahandkerchiefasagreatlinercastitsmoorings.Shewatchedittillitslightsgrewdim，andthenreturnedtoWestTwentiethStreet.Strangerswouldtakepossessionofitonthemorrow.Annhadhersupperinthekitchenincompanywiththenurse，whohadstayedonatherrequest;

andthatnight，slippingnoiselesslyfromherroom，shelayuponthefloor，herheadrestingagainstthearmofthechairwhereAbnerhadbeenwonttositandsmokehiseveningpipe;somehowitseemedtocomforther.AndMatthewthewhile，beneaththestars，waspacingthesilentdeckofthegreatlinerandplanningoutthefuture.

Toonlyoneotherbeinghadheeverconfidedhisdreams.Shelayinthechurchyard;andtherewasnothinglefttoencouragehimbuthisownheart.Buthehadnodoubts.Hewouldbeagreatwriter.Histwohundredpoundswouldsupporthimtillhehadgainedafoothold.

Afterthathewouldclimbswiftly.Hehaddoneright，sohetoldhimself，toturnhisbackonjournalism：thegraveofliterature.

Hewouldseemenandcities，writingashewent.Lookingback，yearslater，hewasabletocongratulatehimselfonhavingchosentherightroad.Hethoughtitwouldleadhimbyeasyascenttofameandfortune.Itdidbetterforhimthanthat.Itledhimthroughpovertyandloneliness，throughhopedeferredandheartache——throughlongnightsoffear，whenprideandconfidencefelluponhim，leavinghimonlythecouragetoendure.

Hisgreatpoems，hisbrilliantessays，hadbeenrejectedsooftenthatevenhehimselfhadlostallloveforthem.Atthesuggestionofaneditormorekindlythanthegeneralrun，andurgedbyneed，hehadwrittensomeshortpiecesofalessambitiousnature.Itwasinbitterdisappointmenthecommencedthem，regardingthemasmerepot—boilers.Hewouldnotgivethemhisname.Hesignedthem"AstonRowant."ItwasthenameofthevillageinOxfordshirewherehehadbeenborn.Itoccurredtohimbychance.Itwouldservethepurposeaswellasanother.Astheworkprogresseditgrewuponhim.Hemadehisstoriesoutofincidentsandpeoplehehadseen;

everydaycomediesandtragediesthathehadlivedamong，ofthingsthathehadfelt;andwhenaftertheirappearanceinthemagazineapublisherwasfoundwillingtomakethemintoabook，hoperevivedinhim.

Itwasbutshort—lived.Thefewreviewsthatreachedhimcontainednothingbutridicule.Sohehadnoplaceevenasaliteraryhack！

HewaslivinginParisatthetimeinanoisy，evil—smellingstreetleadingoutoftheQuaiSaint—Michel.HethoughtofChatterton，andwouldloafonthebridgeslookingdownintotheriverwherethedrownedlightstwinkled.

Andthenonedaytherecametohimaletter，sentontohimfromthepublisherofhisonebook.Itwassigned"Sylvia，"nothingelse，andborenoaddress.Matthewpickeduptheenvelope.Thepostmarkwas"London，S.E."

Itwasachildishletter.Aprosperous，well—fedgenius，familiarwithsuch，mighthavesmiledatit.ToMatthewinhisdespairitbroughthealing.Shehadfoundthebooklyinginanemptyrailwaycarriage;andundeterredbymoralscrupleshadtakenithomewithher.Ithadremainedforgottenforatime，untilwhentheendreallyseemedtohavecomeherhandbychancehadfallenonit.Shefanciedsomekindlittlewanderingspirit——thespiritperhapsofsomeonewhohadknownwhatitwastobelonelyandverysadandjustaboutbrokenalmost——musthavemanoeuvredthewholething.Ithadseemedtoherasthoughsomestrongandgentlehandhadbeenlaiduponherinthedarkness.Shenolongerfeltfriendless.Andsoon.

Thebook，heremembered，containedareferencetothemagazineinwhichthesketcheshadfirstappeared.Shewouldbesuretohavenoticedthis.Hewouldsendherhisanswer.Hedrewhischairuptotheflimsytable，andallthatnighthewrote.

Hedidnothavetothink.Itcametohim，andforthefirsttimesincethebeginningofthingshehadnofearofitsnotbeingaccepted.Itwasmostlyabouthimself，andtherestwasabouther，buttomostofthosewhoreadittwomonthslateritseemedtobeaboutthemselves.Theeditorwroteacharmingletter，thankinghimforit;butatthetimethechiefthingthatworriedhimwaswhether"Sylvia"hadseenit.Hewaitedanxiouslyforafewweeks，andthenreceivedhersecondletter.Itwasamorewomanlyletterthanthefirst.Shehadunderstoodthestory，andherwordsofthanksalmostconveyedtohimtheflushofpleasurewithwhichshehadreadit.

Hisfriendship，sheconfessed，wouldbeverysweettoher，andstillmoredelightfulthethoughtthathehadneedofher：thatshealsohadsomethingtogive.Shewouldwrite，ashewished，herrealthoughtsandfeelings.Theywouldneverknowoneanother，andthatwouldgiveherboldness.Theywouldbecomrades，meetingonlyindreamland.

InthiswaycommencedthewhimsicalromanceofSylviaandAstonRowant;foritwastoolatenowtochangethename——ithadbecomeanametoconjurewith.Thestories，poems，andessaysfollowednowinregularsuccession.Theanxiouslyexpectedlettersreachedhiminorderlyprocession.Theygrewininterest，inhelpfulness.Theybecamethelettersofawonderfullysane，broad—minded，thoughtfulwoman——awomanofinsight，offinejudgment.Theirpraisewasrareenoughtobeprecious.Oftentheywouldcontainjustcriticism，temperedbysympathy，lightenedbyhumour.Ofhertroubles，sorrows，fears，shecametowritelessandless，andeventhennotuntiltheywerepastandshecouldlaughatthem.Thesubtlestflatteryshegavehimwasthesuggestionthathehadtaughthertoputthesethingsintotheirproperplace.Intimate，self—revealingasherletterswere，itwascurioushenevershapedfromthemanysatisfactoryimageofthewriter.

Abrave，kind，tenderwoman.Aself—forgetting，quickly—forgivingwoman.Amany—sidedwoman，respondingtojoy，tolaughter：amerrylady，attimes.Yetbynomeansaperfectwoman.Therecouldbeflashesoftemper，onefeltthat;quiteoftenoccasionalunreasonableness;atonguethatcouldbecutting.Asweet，restful，greatlylovingwoman，butstillawoman：itwouldbewisetorememberthat.Sohereadherfromherletters.Butherself，theeyes，andhair，andlipsofher，thevoiceandlaughandsmileofher，thehandsandfeetofher，alwaystheyeludedhim.

HewasinAlaskaonespring，wherehehadgonetocollectmaterialforhiswork，whenhereceivedthelastlettersheeverwrotehim.

Theyneitherofthemknewthenitwouldbethelast.ShewasleavingLondon，sothepostscriptinformedhim，sailingonthefollowingSaturdayforNewYork，whereforthefuturesheintendedtolive.