In the following September I took my daughters to Elizabeth. She looked earnestly, first at Frances, tall and slim and fancying herself a woman grown, then at Ellen, short and round and struggling with the giggling age. "We shall like each other, I'm sure," was her verdict. "We'll get on well together." And Frances smiled, and Ellen nodded. They evidently thought so, too.

"I want you to teach them your art," said I, when they were gone to settle themselves and she and I were alone.

"My art?"

"The art of being one's self. I am sick of men and women who hide their real selves behind a pose of what they want others to think them."

"Most of our troubles come from that, don't they?"

"All mine did," said I. "I am at the age when the very word age begins to jar on the ear, and the net result of my years of effort is—I have convinced other people that I am somebody at the cost of convincing myself that I am nobody."

"No, you are master," she said.

"As a lion-tamer is master of his lions. He gives all his thought to them, who think only of their appetites. And his whole reward is that with his life in his hand he can sometimes cow them through a few worthless little tricks." I looked round the attractive reception-room of the school. "I wish you'd take me in, too," I ended.

She flushed a little, then shook her head, her eyes twinkling. "This is not a reformatory," said she. And we both laughed.

As I did not speak or look away, but continued to smile at her, she became uneasy, glanced round as if seeking an avenue of retreat.

"Yes—I mean just that, Elizabeth," I admitted, and my tone explained the words.

She clasped her hands and started up.

"In me—in every one," I went on, "there's a beast and a man. Just now—with me—the man is uppermost. And he wants to stay uppermost. Elizabeth—will you—help him?"

She lowered her head until I could see only the splendor of her thick hair, sparkling like black quartz.

"Will you—dear? Won't you—dear?"

Suddenly she gave me both her hands. "Let us help each other," she said. And slowly she lifted her glance to mine; and never before had I felt the full glory of those eyes, the full melody of that deep voice.

And so, I end as I began, as life begins and ends—with a woman. In a woman's arms we enter life; in a woman's arms we get the courage and strength to bear it; in a woman's arms we leave it. And as for the span between—the business, profession, career—how colorless, how meaningless it would be but for her!

THE END