"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.