; ;
 
 STRUAN
 
 STRUAN 
 
 A NOVEL BY 
 
 Julia Magruder 
 
 AUTHOR OF The Princess Sonia, A Beautiful Alien, ETC. 
 
 "When half-gods go, 
 
 The gods arrive." EMERSON. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 Richard G. Badger 
 
 The Gorbam Press 
 1903
 
 COPYRIGHT 1898 BY RICHARD G. BAncir. 4 Co. 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 Printed at The Gorham Press Boston
 
 STRUAN 
 
 I. 
 
 AT the age of nineteen, Jenny Lacy felt 
 herself a woman, and a self-made one. 
 Looking backward on her birthday morn- 
 ing, she was conscious of a sense of satisfaction. 
 It was incomplete, however ; for she was yet far 
 from her goal, which was to become a popular 
 singer of light opera. On the other hand, she was 
 quite as far from the starting-point, a distinct 
 and never-to-be forgotten day, five years ago, when 
 this daring ambition had entered her mind and an- 
 chored itself in her soul. 
 
 Since that day she had worked toward her pur- 
 pose with the concentration of a passion, and now, 
 at nineteen., she saw success in sight. 
 
 She had reached this point in her career by 
 her own unaided efforts, a fact pleasant to think 
 upon, now that the goal, though distant, was 
 I 
 
 2061916
 
 2 STRUAN 
 
 visible ; but she freely acknowledged that, along 
 the weary way which she had come, she would 
 by no means have scorned help, had she, at any 
 time, seen her way to getting it. 
 
 Jenny had been ambitious from her childhood, 
 though it had been long before she got a sufficient 
 insight into life to understand that her restless- 
 ness, her excitability, her resentment of the actual 
 about her, was in reality ambition ; and it had 
 been some time, even after getting that knowledge, 
 before she had seen her way to any outlet for these 
 inward strivings. 
 
 It had come, at last, with the knowledge that 
 she had a voice, not merely such a voice as 
 could make pleasant music in Sunday-school and 
 at " Commencement," but such a voice as the big 
 outside world might one day be willing to listen 
 to. And that was the world of Jenny's dream. 
 
 This dream of hers which had lasted, with- 
 out a break, from her fourteenth to her nineteenth 
 year had both a locality and a hero. The for- 
 mer was the city of New York : the latter was 
 Lucien Struan, the distinguished musician, con- 
 ductor, and composer. 
 
 Jenny's first knowledge of Struan had come 
 from hearing some one read aloud a newspaper 
 article about him one of the fulsome, melodra-
 
 STRUAN 3 
 
 inatic things which do yet, at times, become elec- 
 trified by their subject, and informed with a certain 
 dynamic element which even clap-trap writing and 
 a vulgar point of view cannot disguise. 
 
 Undoubtedly, Struan was such a subject. There 
 was magnetism in the man. All who came near 
 him felt it, and it seemed even to extend to what 
 was said and written about him. Many who 
 skipped other personal paragraphs read those that 
 related to Struan. And, when his name was men- 
 tioned, people generally stopped to hear what was 
 said. 
 
 The article which had so influenced Jenny had 
 many of the faults of its kind. It was sensa- 
 tional and overstrained and effusive ; but, in spite 
 of all this, it had, somehow, got into it some of 
 the quality of the man. And Jenny, who had 
 never felt the touch of such an influence before, 
 vibrated to it through all her childish being. The 
 article had a picture of its subject printed with 
 it, a common wood-cut, which, however, like 
 the writing, had a certain character in it, and 
 which possessed the soul of Jenny, and played 
 upon its sensitiveness more than any perfect 
 beauty that she had ever seen. 
 
 Quite unknown to any, for she was reserved 
 n her nature, and had never had a confidant,
 
 4 STRUAN 
 
 the ardent little girl took all her money and 
 bought the most beautiful blank book that she 
 could find in the town, and pasted this picture on 
 its first page, followed by the sketch of Struan. 
 
 This sketch described him leading his orchestra, 
 and did not deal with the personalities of his life 
 outside his musical career. So it introduced Jenny 
 to him as a great musician and a powerfully at- 
 tractive man, but told her nothing more. 
 
 After that, it became a habit with her to scan 
 every newspaper that fell in her way, in search of 
 the potent name ; and, as time went on, her pretty 
 scrap-book got richer and richer with the accounts 
 of her hero's triumphant progress in his chosen 
 field of labor and self-expression. 
 
 Even Jenny could form some conception of 
 what such triumphs must be, for she had her own 
 uncomprehended little thrills and stirrings when 
 her voice would rise high above the rest in the 
 Sunday-school singing, and people would turn and 
 look, or when, at school commencements, she 
 sang, as she knew, far better than any one else. 
 
 There was no friend, however, to praise Jenny 
 when she did well or to stimulate her to do 
 better. Her parents were dead, and she lived with 
 a phlegmatic and hard-working sister-in-law, who 
 saw nothing in music, at best, and looked upon
 
 STRUAN 5 
 
 Jenny's pretty carolling as rather a nuisance than 
 otherwise. Jenny's brother sent her to school, 
 and gave her such advantages as the little Western 
 village had to offer, and she was kindly treated, 
 on the whole. But no one ever had even a glim- 
 mer of such thoughts about her as those which 
 she indulged in for herself. 
 
 And, always, the centre of her system was Lu- 
 cien Struan. Somehow or other, she must find 
 the way of going to New York, and taking sing- 
 ing-lessons from Struan. Afterward as far as 
 she ever paused now, to look beyond that goal of 
 glory she meant to go on the stage. 
 
 With this idea firmly planted in her mind, it 
 was amazing to see how silently and steadily, as 
 the passing years changed her from a child to 
 a rapidly maturing girl, Jenny managed to work 
 toward her end. She studied well at school, and 
 practised her music with an ardor and industry 
 which amazed her teachers. She got from them 
 the best attention and instruction that they were 
 capable of giving ; and when she went quite be- 
 yond them, as she soon did, she contrived to go 
 for lessons, once a week, to a larger place about 
 ten miles away. At the same time she was culti- 
 vating, more through her own intuition than from 
 any other source, a talent which she had for reci-
 
 6 STRUAN 
 
 tation. By the time that she was seventeen she 
 was being paid for her services in singing and re- 
 citing at concerts and such entertainments. 
 
 As she was incontestably pretty and had a talent 
 for picturesque dressing, she soon became a favor- 
 ite, and might have gone on to a much greater 
 success in this limited field. 
 
 But a limited field was not to Jenny's taste. 
 She never swerved from her original purpose, and 
 for two years she went about, filling engagements 
 to sing and recite, working hard all the time at her 
 music ; and now, by dint of good management 
 and strict economy, she had saved enough for her 
 cherished purpose, the removal to New York 
 and the lessons from Struan. 
 
 Meantime she. had followed him from afar 
 through every step of his public career, and her 
 scrap-book was full and overflowing. The origi- 
 nal picture had been added to by many others, 
 some ideally handsome and straight-featured, some 
 repellently rough and rugged, according to the art 
 or the caprice of wood-cutter or photographer; but 
 all, in some inscrutable way, were Struan, with 
 the mark of his own character on them. 
 
 Jenny had grown up exceptionally free from 
 training or mental direction of any kind. Her 
 brother and her sister-in-law recognized the fact
 
 STRUAN 7 
 
 that she was an alien, having nothing in common 
 with them and their children. Being themselves 
 dull and practical people, with far more conscious- 
 ness of physical than of spiritual needs, they left 
 Jenny to her own devices, and to such a system of 
 morals as she might get from her own somewhat 
 unaccountable nature and from the leadings of her 
 teachers at school and Sunday-school, whom Jenny, 
 more or less, despised. 
 
 So she was wonderfully free from trammels of 
 every kind, both those from without and those 
 from within, when she arrived in New York. 
 She was not on the pinnacle of success ; but she 
 was high enough, after her dull, struggling life, to 
 find her present position an almost dangerous 
 eminence. 
 
 She was feeling a little giddy in consequence, 
 when she opened her eyes the first morning in her 
 quiet boarding-house, chosen chiefly for economy. 
 Her spirit, however, was all undaunted, as she 
 dressed herself for the great event of her first 
 meeting with Struan. She had by nature a spirit, 
 unconventional and unafraid, and had always gone 
 far ahead of her companions, doing and venturing 
 things which sufficiently accounted for her positive 
 self-secure and, it must be owned, somewhat con- 
 ceited little manner.
 
 8 STRUAN 
 
 There was nothing of this manner in her now, 
 however. She had sloughed it off, at her entrance 
 to New York ; and, at the thought of her meet- 
 ing with Struan, she was almost pathetically 
 humble. It was as much to Jenny as an audience 
 with the king to a royalist. She knew that Struan 
 had never been a public singer himself, but she 
 knew that he was a power of whom public singers 
 stood in awe. It was not that, however, which 
 made her feel humble and timid for the first time 
 in her life. Struan was said to be wilful, capri- 
 cious, impulsive ; hard and tyrannical or gentle 
 and winning, as the case might be. But it was 
 hot this, either. She knew he was a big man, 
 whose name and co-operation made any enterprise 
 that depended upon public support a success. But 
 it was not this. She knew, also, that he had cer- 
 tain great qualities of heart which made him of 
 so prodigal a generosity to any friend in trouble 
 that, more than once, it had practically impover- 
 ished him. In her narrow sphere, she had known 
 nothing like any of these things ; yet it was none 
 of these that gave her such strange feelings now. 
 
 Jenny had carefully planned her costume for 
 this occasion, telling herself that it was a matter 
 of importance, since she hoped to be a public 
 singer, that he should see her looking her best.
 
 STRUAN 9 
 
 Now, as she dressed for this meeting, an insidious 
 suggestion came to her mind that perhaps she 
 was not so smart, seen in a city mirror, as she had 
 seemed to herself at home. Was there not even 
 something the least bit countrified in her appear- 
 ance ? This suspicion, in spite of her, made her 
 feel like crying, and kept her heart rather heavy 
 all the time that she was going down town in the 
 street-cars. As she looked out of the window 
 and eagerly compared herself to the girls who 
 were walking on the street, the conviction deep- 
 ened. 
 
 Her misgivings about her dress suggested others 
 about her voice ; and, for perhaps a quarter of an 
 hour, she wished herself back at home, and felt 
 that she could be content to remain in obscurity. 
 
 It was not in Jenny, however, to be cowardly. 
 She rallied her forces, and put on a very resolute 
 air, as she mounted the steps of the house of 
 which she had come in search, and read on a 
 small sign, among others fastened at the side of 
 the door, the all-potent name of Lucien Struan. 
 
 She touched the bell, and stood waiting, with a 
 trembling heart. A boy, preoccupied and indiffer- 
 ent in his manner, opened the door, and she asked 
 if Mr. Struan was in. (How like a dream it was ! 
 Almost as if she had called at Olympus, and in-
 
 io STRUAN 
 
 quired of Ganymede for Jove.) The boy an- 
 swered in the affirmative, but demanded whether 
 or not she had an appointment. Having written 
 the day before to say that she would call at this 
 hour, she boldly replied that she had. The 
 phlegmatic youth then led her down a long pas- 
 sage, and ushered her into a small reception-room, 
 where she was requested to wait. She had given 
 her card, and with it the boy disappeared. 
 
 In a moment he came back, said briefly that her 
 card had been sent in, and then went his indiffer- 
 ent way, and left her there alone. 
 
 Jenny sat still and waited with a fluttering 
 heart. Various sounds came to her, but all were 
 strange, unsympathetic, uncongenial. Occasion- 
 ally some one would hurry through the room, 
 glancing at her inhospitably. 
 
 It seemed a very long while that she waited. 
 It must have been more than an hour. After a 
 while the boy who had admitted her passed 
 through the room, without looking at her. When 
 he came back, she asked him if Mr. Struan had 
 received her card. He gave a careless affirmative 
 reply, and went off down the long passage. 
 
 Still she sat and waited for a summons, which 
 did not come. She began to feel that, if that door 
 opened again for any one who passed her by in
 
 STRUAN ii 
 
 this cold and heartless way, she should lose her 
 self-command, and cry. 
 
 The door opened again. A man came in, with 
 his hat on. At sight of her, he lifted it, mechani- 
 cally, and would have passed on, but that he met 
 her glance, and it arrested him. 
 
 The man's face was dark. It had deep lines 
 and rugged contours. It looked, at this moment, 
 slightly haggard, and as if concentrated on some 
 perplexing thought. The eyes, steady and serious 
 rather than large, were sunk deep under strongly 
 modelled brows. He was older than she had ex- 
 pected to see him, older, and not so handsome. 
 But she knew him at once. 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ? " he said, re-act- 
 ing, as she saw, from the impulse which, at first 
 sight of her, had urged him to hurry on. 
 
 For an instant she was totally unable to speak. 
 The long and anxious time of waiting had strained 
 her nervous endurance much. Added to this, the 
 impression which she received from the man be- 
 fore her an impression of power and importance 
 made her small claims to his attention seem 
 unwarranted, and even absurd. She was humili- 
 ated to feel her eyes fill with tears. 
 
 Evidently, he noticed this. 
 
 " Come into my office," he said kindly. " Did 
 you wish to see me ? I am Lucien Struan."
 
 12 STRUAN 
 
 She nodded, without speaking ; and he led the 
 way down a short passage, and opened a door at 
 its end. There was a screen before this doorj 
 and, when she had walked round it, she found 
 herself in a large room, with an office-desk covered 
 with papers on one side of it and a grand piano on 
 the other. 
 
 Going quickly to a table, he brought her a glass 
 of water. She had been struggling hard for self- 
 command, and with success. When she had 
 swallowed the water and returned the glass to 
 him, she was able to speak calmly. 
 
 "I am Miss Lacy, Jenny Lacy," she said. 
 " I wrote you a note yesterday, to say that I 
 would call this morning at eleven." 
 
 A look of deprecation came into his face. 
 
 " I have to beg your pardon," he said. " 1 
 think I got the note, and I should have had it 
 answered. I did not notice that it said to-day. 
 Tell me what I can do for you." 
 
 " But I fear you haven't time " 
 
 " One may always have time by taking it," he 
 said. " My business now is with you." 
 
 " I wrote you," began Jenny, choking a little, 
 " that I wanted to go on the stage, to be a public 
 singer." 
 
 " Ah ! did you ? " he said, and she fancied an
 
 STRUAN 13 
 
 inflection of disappointment in his voice. While 
 she was wondering at this, he said abruptly, 
 
 Why ? " 
 
 Jenny looked at him, puzzled. 
 
 " Why do you wish to become a public 
 singer ? " he said. 
 
 " Because," she began, wonderingly, " be- 
 cause I want to." 
 
 u Is there any one depending on you for sup- 
 port or help ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Is it necessary for you to make your own 
 living ? " 
 
 " No," she said, " it's not for that 
 
 " For what, then ? " he said abruptly. 
 
 He looked searchingly into her eyes ; but, as 
 she did not at once reply, he turned, and said 
 with a change of tone : 
 
 " But, first, we will try your voice." 
 
 Going to the piano, he raised it, and motioned 
 her to come to his side. 
 
 " What will you sing ? " he said, seating him- 
 self. 
 
 She mentioned a song. It was one of his own 
 compositions. He recognized the compliment 
 by the briefest possible bow, as he struck the 
 chords.
 
 H STRUAN 
 
 What a master touch ! Already Jenny real- 
 ized that it was different from anything she had 
 ever heard before. It roused her to a change of 
 
 o 
 
 mood, and she even suspected that the brief in- 
 troduction which he played had its influence upon 
 him as well. His powerful body swayed gently to 
 the waves of sound, and his face showed also their 
 soothing touch. At last, with the firm stroke of 
 one finger, he sounded the resonant note for 
 Jenny to begin. 
 
 At first, her voice trembled, and her recent 
 emotion made it a trifle husky. But, as she went 
 resolutely on, it cleared ; and she knew that she 
 was doing her best. 
 
 Breathlessly, she waited for him to speak. He 
 did so with promptness and decision. 
 
 " You have a charming voice," he said " not 
 great, in any sense, but charming. Still, I do not 
 advise you to go on the stage." 
 
 " Or even to sing in public ? " she asked with 
 a sinking heart. 
 
 " Or even to sing in public. Why should 
 you ? " 
 
 Jenny could not speak for the instant ; and, as 
 she was silent, he went on : 
 
 " If you had one of the great voices of the 
 world, I should say that you owed a debt to your
 
 STRUAN 15 
 
 generation ; but your voice, pretty as it is, is only 
 one of many. Your place can easily be filled by 
 substitute. I advise you to return to your home 
 and the life you have left." 
 
 " I refuse ! " cried Jenny, hotly. " I hate that 
 stupid life." Then, feeling that she had lost con- 
 trol of herself, she added more calmly : " I don't 
 want you to suppose that I had any ridiculous 
 ideas about my voice, or thought myself likely to 
 become a great singer. I was never so conceited. 
 And, as to owing a debt to the world, I never 
 talked any such nonsense to myself since I was 
 born. I have thought that the world owed me 
 something, and it's that that I am trying to get. 
 Suppose my voice is only ordinary. I can improve 
 it, or, at least, get an ordinary singer's position, 
 provided I work hard and acquire a good method. 
 That is what I came here to do. Will you give 
 me lessons ? " 
 
 The great man looked at her shrewdly for a 
 few seconds. Then he said : 
 
 " My charges are high, twenty dollars a 
 lesson." 
 
 Jenny did not flinch. 
 
 " Will you teach me ? " she said. 
 
 " How many lessons would you want to 
 take ? "
 
 16 STRUAN 
 
 He had to lower his eyes, to prevent her seeing 
 in them the amused consciousness of the fact that 
 she was doing a sum in mental arithmetic. 
 
 Presently she said firmly : 
 
 " Fifteen." 
 
 " That would not be enough," he said. 
 
 " For the present it would. I'd come back 
 next year." 
 
 "And work for the money meanwhile, I sup- 
 pose ! " 
 
 She nodded, without speaking. 
 
 " You are determined, then ? " 
 
 "Yes, I'm determined. If you will not teach 
 me, I'll get some one else, the next best." 
 
 He hesitated just a moment. Then he said de- 
 cidedly : 
 
 41 If your mind is quite made up, I will teach 
 you. But will you sit down a moment, and let 
 me have a little talk with you ? " 
 
 Jenny took the chair to which he pointed, and 
 he seated himself opposite. 
 
 " There are certain lessons which I might teach 
 you," he said, " and which I should like to teach 
 you, that it would be far more to your advantage 
 to learn than these singing-lessons that your heart 
 is so set upon." 
 
 "Yes," she said, as if she thought she caught
 
 STRUAN 17 
 
 his meaning, " I know well enough that there are 
 other things in which I need instruction, lessons 
 in life, which I am as anxious to learn as I am to 
 learn singing. I shall get both together here in 
 New York. I cannot endure the narrowness of 
 my life at home. I am sick of the stagnation 
 of it. Life is slipping past me, and I've made no 
 use of it. I am not willing to die before I have 
 lived. The danger of that makes me wild." 
 "And what do you mean by l living ' ? " 
 " Feeling ! " she said, throwing out her hand 
 with one of those gestures which had made 
 her successful as a public reciter; for there was 
 natural force and sympathy in it. " I have had 
 nothing worthy to be called feeling in my life, 
 unless it be the feverish desire to feel ! I'd far 
 rather suffer through feeling than not feel at all. 
 It's all very well for you people who live in a 
 world of action and movement to recommend 
 quiet and repose to the rest of us, who have had 
 it till we are sick of it. No, Mr. Struan, I shall 
 not take your advice. I have worked for years to 
 prepare myself for the stage, and I am not going 
 to be balked by any tiresome ideas about prudence 
 and discretion. . I know what you would say, and 
 of course I thank you very much for caring what 
 becomes of me. All I ask of you now, however.
 
 i8 STRUAN 
 
 is to teach me to sing. Do that, and I'll take 
 care of the rest. If I am only fitted for a second 
 or third rate place on the stage, I'll take it, and 
 make the most of it." 
 
 Struan's eyes were very penetrating. He fixed 
 them on her now, as he said : 
 
 "There's no use, I suppose, in telling you that 
 you will probably regret it ? " 
 
 " None in the world. If I regret it, it will 
 be my own regret. I shall trouble no one else 
 with it." 
 
 " Advice would be wasted here, I see," said 
 Struan. "So I will be wise, and refrain. You 
 could never be made to believe now that the time 
 may come when the thought of one hour's mental 
 stagnation would be a dream of bliss to you. It 
 is a heavier weariness to be tired of feeling than 
 to be tired of not feeling, especially if it should 
 so happen that feeling is mostly pain ; and that 
 may be, you know." 
 
 He got up then, and with a sudden show of 
 hurry began to arrange the hours for the lessons. 
 
 They were to be twice a week, at this place, at 
 ten in the morning. These details settled, he 
 went with her through the long passage, and down 
 to the door, where a cab stood waiting. Looking 
 at his watch, he gave a little exclamation of sur-
 
 STRUAN 19 
 
 prise, and sprang into the vehicle, telling the cab- 
 man to driv quickly to a given address. 
 
 After that first meeting, the great man's manner 
 toward his young pupil changed. She found him 
 a strict teacher, who rarely spoke, except to in- 
 struct, and who seemed quite to have lost sight of 
 her as an independent individuality. 
 , Jenny practised hard, and threw her whole soul 
 into the effort to compel some expression of praise 
 from him. Sometimes he would look as if he 
 approved ; but, as he said nothing, she began to 
 think him obstinate. She could see that, under 
 the marvellous instruction he gave her, she was 
 making great progress ; and she wondered if the 
 time would ever come when he would tell her so. 
 
 One thing she had learned from outside report, 
 and that was that he had shown an inexplicable 
 exception in her favor by taking her as a pupil. 
 She discovered, from various sources, that he had 
 given up taking pupils, and that all applications, 
 for a long time past, had been refused. This 
 made her won'der whether her voice might not be 
 better than he had allowed her to know. A more 
 self-conscious woman than Jenny might have 
 attributed his favoritism to personal interest ; but 
 that the god, whom he was in her eyes, should 
 stoop to notice her from any other motive than
 
 20 STRUAN 
 
 interest in her music never crossed her unsuspect- 
 ing mind. It was as a being far removed from 
 her sphere, and totally beyond her reach, that she 
 thought of him. It greatly disturbed her, there- 
 fore, to realize that he was possessed by a very 
 ungodlike spirit of sadness. Often she would go 
 through a whole lesson preoccupied by this con- 
 sciousness about him. As she stood a little back 
 of him, while he played her accompaniments, she 
 would look down upon his face, and fancy that she 
 saw scored there the plain indications of sorrow. 
 The eyes, which followed the notes automatically 
 across the page, looked sometimes fierce and 
 gloomy under the contracted brows. The rather 
 short nose and firm mouth had, she imagined, 
 a look of self-repression. 
 
 Jenny often wished that it were possible for her 
 to express some sympathy for him, but she never 
 for an instant conceived that this could be. 
 Sometimes she did make the effort to put it into 
 her voice ; and she would then fancy, though he 
 said nothing, that perhaps he felt it. She never 
 dared hope, though, that he recognized any per- 
 sonal element in it. Indeed, it would have fright- 
 ened her to have this so. 
 
 On one day she became certain that the currents 
 of their feelings met, and flowed together. She
 
 STRUAN 21 
 
 had brought a new song to sing for him, one that 
 she had practised beforehand with great care. 
 
 When the song ended, however, he did not so 
 much as look at her ; but he said : 
 
 lt I must tell you that I underestimated your 
 voice. It is, as I said, not great ; but it is very 
 far beyond the mediocrity with which you once 
 said that you would be content." 
 
 " I said that only supposing I discovered that it 
 was the best attainable, and I never ceased to 
 hope for something better," she said. 
 
 He did not answer, and the lesson ended there.
 
 II, 
 
 TWO or three lessons went by, almost as 
 devoid of any personal relationship be- 
 tween teacher and pupil as if both had 
 been ingeniously constructed machines. Jenny 
 felt that she was learning, as if by magic, but it 
 irked her spirit a little that her master was so 
 silent. 
 
 At last, one day, at the close of her lesson, 
 Struan turned abruptly from the piano, and, throw-- 
 ing himself, in an impulsive way that he had, into 
 a big chair, said : 
 
 " Sit down a moment. I want to speak to 
 you." 
 
 Jenny felt surprised. She gave no evidence of 
 this, however, as she took her seat in the cane- 
 backed revolving chair which stood before the 
 desk, and wheeled herself round toward him. She 
 had rolled her song into a slender tube, one end 
 of which she put against her lips, with an instinct 
 to protect herself from a possible betrayal, which 
 might lie in their expression. 
 
 " I want to tell you," said Struan, abruptly, 
 " that I have it in my power now to get a good 
 engagement for you." 
 
 22
 
 STRUAN 23 
 
 The girl's eyes showed a sudden fire. 
 
 " Not really ? " she said. " But I haven't 
 studied enough. I'm not equal to it." 
 
 " I am prepared to say that you are ; and, if I 
 say so, with the advantages which you possess 
 in yourself, you can get the position. It is a good 
 company, with an honorable and considerate man- 
 agement. If you are going on the stage, you 
 could not do better." 
 
 " What do you advise ? " she asked breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 "What I advised at first, that you should 
 give up the idea of the stage." 
 
 She grew very grave ; and her voice sounded a 
 little hard, as she said : 
 
 " I am not speaking of advice of that sort. I 
 want your advice as my music-teacher." 
 
 "Then you don't value it as that of your 
 friend ? " 
 
 " I didn't know that you were my friend," she 
 said with a suggestion of humility, the first he 
 had ever seen in her. 
 
 " I am, and I propose now to prove it. When 
 this opportunity came, I thought, with some pride, 
 of giving it to you ; and I must tell you that I be- 
 lieve you could, with this company, make a hit, as 
 they say."
 
 24 STRUAN 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, throwing up her chin and 
 smiling at him half defiantly under lowered lids, 
 and through long lashes : " that is what I should 
 like, to make a hit! It is the thing of all 
 others which I have thought of with most de- 
 light." 
 
 She felt his gaze upon her turning cold, and 
 imagined that it was because something in her 
 mood jarred upon him. 
 
 " I wish you would agree to say nothing but 
 the absolute truth to me in this talk, as if you 
 were on oath," he said. " Now do you mean what 
 you have just said ? " 
 
 His seriousness perplexed her, and made her 
 also grave. 
 
 " Do I mean what ? " she asked. 
 
 " Do you mean that the idea of making a hit 
 on the stage is the thing which you have always 
 thought of with most delight ? " 
 
 " If I'm under oath," she said, looking away 
 from him, and tapping restlessly on the desk with 
 her roll of music, " I suppose I ought to qualify it 
 by saying the attainable thing." 
 
 " If you would let me call myself your friend," 
 he said, " I should like to ask what you mean by 
 that. Just at this point of your life I should like 
 you to give me the place and privileges of a friend,
 
 STRUAN 25 
 
 for reasons which I will presently explain. Could 
 you, without knowing me any better than you do, 
 look upon me as your friend as well as your music- 
 teacher ? for it is in both these positions that I 
 must advise you now." 
 
 " I am only too thankful to have you for my 
 friend," she said very simply and sweetly. " It is 
 an idea that had not entered my head. I was 
 slow in taking it in." 
 
 " Then tell me, as your friend, what that unat- 
 tainable thing is which you acknowledge that you 
 have thought of with more delight even than mak- 
 ing a hit on the stage." 
 
 She felt herself blushing, and was annoyed at 
 the discovery. She got up, without speaking, and 
 went to the piano, where she leaned on her elbow, 
 with her chin in her hand, and began to turn over 
 some music at which she was not looking. 
 
 " Why don't you answer me ? " said Struan. 
 " It is a matter of importance to me, as your 
 friend. Otherwise I should not ask." 
 
 " Oh, really," she said with a little embar- 
 rassed laugh, " I couldn't tell you that ! I don't 
 want to say things which I should think silly 
 afterward, and which you would think silly at 
 the time." 
 
 " If we are ever to get at what I am working
 
 26 STRUAN 
 
 for, I see I shall have to help you," said Struan, 
 in a practical and reassuring voice. " It's a 
 simple thing, I imagine. Like every woman, you 
 have had dreams of marriage, I suppose ? " 
 
 Jenny quickly dropped her eyes. 
 
 " Like every silly school-girl, rather ! " she said, 
 with a little laugh. " Since I have been a woman 
 really, I have put them by." 
 
 He got up, moving quickly, and crossed to the 
 piano. Then, taking her by both her wrists, he 
 led her, with an urgency which was almost force, 
 back to her former place, and drew his own chair 
 nearer, so that she could not avoid his direct and 
 searching gaze, except by lowering her eyelids, 
 which she did. 
 
 He waited a moment, and then said in a tone 
 of authority : 
 
 " Look at me, young lady ! " 
 
 For a few seconds more her eyes remained cast 
 down, and she was ashamed to feel herself blush- 
 ing again. When she presently looked up, how- 
 ever, she met a gaze so frank and unembarrassed 
 that it quickly reassured her. 
 
 "You are at a point of your life," said her 
 companion, " when you need a friend. Your 
 own people, whoever they may be, seem to leave 
 you strangely to yourself. The consequences of
 
 STRUAN 27 
 
 this liberty may be very dangerous, though I see 
 plainly that, up to this point, your freedom has 
 been only an advantage to you. So far, you have 
 used it well. You have not, however, been tried, 
 as you are to be tried now ; and I am afraid to let 
 you go through the ordeal alone. I intend to be 
 to you, at this point of your life, the friend that 
 you need. In order that I may do that, we must 
 speak to each other very frankly. You must tell 
 me, then, why you have put aside your dreams of 
 marriage." 
 
 She returned his direct gaze with one of equal 
 candor. 
 
 " Because I found that they were ridiculous," 
 she said. " They were overstrained, sentimental, 
 Utopian, and all the rest of it ! It's hard for me 
 to realize it now, but I used to be exceedingly 
 romantic." 
 
 " Used to be ! " he said, smiling. " Why, your 
 head's as packed with romance now as a rosebud 
 is with perfume ! And why shouldn't it be ? 
 Why should you ever have tried to prevent it ? I 
 can assure you that romance is as alive in the 
 world to-day as it ever was, and will continue to 
 be the most living thing that there is, as long as 
 human nature lasts ; that is, if what you mean 
 by romance is the love between men and women."
 
 28 STRUAN 
 
 He looked straight at her to see if she would 
 wince under his plain speaking, but she took it 
 perfectly simply. 
 
 " Don't you believe me ? " he said. 
 
 She nodded her head. 
 
 u Yes, I believe you," she answered ; " but 
 what I don't believe is that that is for me." 
 
 " And why not for you ? " 
 
 She shook her head backward with a childish 
 motion of petulance. 
 
 " Oh, because," she said, " the men who have 
 called themselves in love with me have never 
 made me feel anything but indignation and con- 
 tempt. I'd rather be the grimmest sort of old 
 maid, hard and thin and ugly, than become house- 
 keeper to one of those creatures, with their lim- 
 ited ideas of love." 
 
 His eyes were upon her with a look of kindly 
 encouragement which took away all sense of em- 
 barassment, as he said : 
 
 " You consider their ideas of love limited, do 
 you ? And yours, then, how are they ? " 
 
 " Do you want me to tell you, really ? " she 
 said. " You wouldn't laugh at me ? " 
 
 " Not for the world ! " 
 
 " I think," she said, feeling an impulse of de- 
 light in speaking out at last, "I think my ideas
 
 STRUAN 29 
 
 of love are unlimited, so long as it is real love. 
 That seems to me the only thing that is worth 
 sacrificing everything for, ambition and every- 
 thing. It's nothing for me to talk about it, as 
 I've given up thinking of it for myself; but love 
 means all that to me or it means nothing. Per- 
 haps it would be truer to say that it used to mean 
 all that, but now it means nothing." 
 
 " You will meet some one who will make it 
 mean all that to you again," said Struan, suddenly. 
 
 Since he had forced her into the seat facing 
 him, he had retained her hands in his, in the effort 
 to compel her attention and to force her to meet 
 his gaze. As he said these last words, she looked 
 at him with a swift, astonished, half-frightened 
 glance that pierced swiftly to his heart. He be- 
 came suddenly conscious that he was holding her 
 hands, then that the consciousness was sweet. 
 He held them a second longer, while this sense 
 quickened within him. Then he dropped them 
 suddenly, and rose to his feet. 
 
 He crossed the floor, drank a glass of water, 
 raised a blind to let in more light, and then, com- 
 ing back, took the desk-chair which she had oc- 
 cupied at first, and resumed the conversation. 
 
 There was a change, however, in both his look 
 and his tone, as he said ;
 
 30 STRUAN 
 
 " You will have to decide for yourself whether 
 you will take the engagement I can secure for you 
 or not. When you come to your next lesson, I 
 shall expect you to be ready with your decision." 
 
 " I am ready now. I accept it," she said 
 promptly. 
 
 " I cannot take any such hasty decision. You 
 are ignorant of the dangers and temptations of the 
 life that you would be entering upon, especially if 
 you make a success." 
 
 " I am not concerned about the temptations," 
 she said : " I am concerned only about the suc- 
 cess." 
 
 " You imagine yourself very strong ! " 
 
 " No, I imagine myself weak, if tempted ; but 
 I am not likely to be tempted." 
 
 " What do you mean by tempted ? tempted 
 to do wrong ? " 
 
 " What do you mean by doing wrong ? " she 
 astonished him by answering boldly. " There is 
 no temptation that I dread except the tempta- 
 tion to take less than I want, in the way of love. 
 That would be my idea of wrong, and I'm not 
 afraid of doing that." 
 
 " But you may meet a man who could give you, 
 in marriage, all that you desire." 
 
 " Yes, so I may ! And so the skies may 
 fall ! "
 
 STRUAN 3 1 
 
 Her manner, as she said this, forced a smile 
 from him ; but he went on in a business-like 
 tone : 
 
 " I ought to lay before you these facts. Your 
 engagement by this company is a first-rate chance 
 for you. If you study hard, and do as well as I 
 believe you can do, you ought to rise rapidly. 
 But, if you get to the top, what is it ? A name 
 tossed about from lip to lip, with doubtful respect, 
 if undoubted admiration ; hard work day after 
 day, and triumphs night after night, which would 
 probably pall upon you soon ; a good income, per- 
 haps, to spend upon clothes and jewelry ; and 
 lovers or would-be lovers by the score." 
 
 " I don't mind the latter," she said ; " and 
 all the rest of the picture I like, even the work. 
 Money to spend on clothes and jewelry is a thing 
 I've longed for. Why not ? It's very inno- 
 cent." 
 
 "Yes," he said, his face half-sad and half-smil- 
 ing, " it's innocent ; but one soon comes to the 
 end of that." 
 
 "Well, I want to come to the end of it, 
 then ! " 
 
 " You don't wish to be serious, I see." 
 
 " I am serious, I assure you. I mean exactly 
 what I say. I don't want you to think me more 
 than I am."
 
 32 STRUAN 
 
 " I wish I knew exactly what you are. The 
 advice which I had meant to give you, there 
 seems somehow no place for. I meant to tell you 
 of this opening, and then advise you, if you would 
 be wise and prudent, to go back to the country, 
 and marry there among your own people, rather 
 than spend the bloom of your life a petted little 
 singer of light comedy, and all the long remainder 
 of it a prey to disappointment and regret." 
 
 " I haven't much opinion of life," she said 
 bluntly. " It's all pretty bad, I fancy ; and middle 
 age and old age are bound to be so. If I can get 
 something out of youth, I shall rejoice ; for it's 
 more than most do. But let me answer you," 
 she added with a change of tone. " In the first 
 place, my marrying any of the creatures I 
 won't call them men ! in the neighborhood of 
 my home is out of the question. And your sug- 
 gestion of the brief period of success upon the 
 stage does not frighten me in the least. The fact 
 that it was success would give me something 
 pleasant to remember, and my old age would have 
 less of regret in it than if I had lived the empty 
 life of most of the girls I have known." 
 
 <c You are decided, then, to take this engage- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " Quite decided. Thank you, very much,"
 
 STRUAN 33 
 
 " And you care nothing for the dangers which I 
 have pointed out ? " 
 
 " Nothing whatever, except that they may 
 cause you some anxiety, seeing that you are my 
 friend." 
 
 She looked at him with a softened light in her 
 eyes, as she uttered these words. 
 
 " I will tell you what my hope for you will be, 
 whatever your lot in life," he said. tl It is in 
 your truth to your ideal of love. When I see that 
 you have no expectation of having that fulfilled, and 
 that, realizing this as you do, you are unwilling to 
 take less, I am comforted by the thought that this 
 spirit in you may carry you safely on to the point 
 of realization of your dreams." 
 
 As Jenny met his look fixed on her, she had 
 a sense of being seen through and through, as she 
 had never been before ; but she felt no objection 
 to such scrutiny. 
 
 "You don't understand me," she said seriously. 
 " I'd rather you encouraged me in any delusion in 
 the world than that one. I've fought that out, 
 and got beyond it. I wouldn't have it raise its 
 head again, for all the world." 
 
 " You are young to be a cynic. I am twice 
 your age, old enough to be your father ; and yet 
 I have not such hopeless ideas of love."
 
 34 STRUAN 
 
 " If you have ever known a completely happy 
 marriage, where love was equal on the two sides, 
 where it stood the test of time, and came up to 
 your ideal of what love could be, then you have a 
 ground for hopefulness which I have not. Have 
 you ever known such a marriage ? " 
 
 " I cannot say that I have." 
 
 " Have you ever known any credible witness 
 who told you that they had known such a mar- 
 riage ? " 
 
 " No, I can't say that, either ; but, still, I be- 
 lieve in its possibility." 
 
 "Then your faith in God and man is greater 
 than mine, if, with every married couple you have 
 seen as evidence to the contrary, you continue to 
 believe." 
 
 " Given the conditions, I don't see why it 
 should not be," he said. " I've never seen a mar- 
 riage that offered the ideal conditions." 
 
 While he spoke, he observed that she was draw- 
 ing on her gloves and collecting her sheets of 
 music. She now stood before him, ready to go ; 
 and, as she looked up into his face, its expression 
 smote her with a certain compunction. An im- 
 pulse made her say gently : 
 
 " You have shown me such goodness and con- 
 sideration that I don't know how to thank you.
 
 STRUAN 35 
 
 Indeed, I do thank you with all my heart for 
 being my friend. I'll tell you something : you 
 are my only one, the only real friend I have. 
 That will seem strange to you; but there has been 
 no one in my life, so far, whom I've really cared 
 to make a friend of. I've had to stand alone. 
 I've had a hard fight for freedom and experience; 
 but I've got them at last, in a way, as people do 
 get what they will have. It's very good of you," 
 she added, smiling, with a sort of meekness that 
 was extremely winning, " to offer the treasure of 
 your friendship to little me." 
 
 "And you are my friend also, are you not ? " 
 he asked. They had taken each other's hands to 
 say good-by, and neither loosened the clasp as 
 they stood there face to face. 
 
 " Oh, I should like to be ! " she said ; " but it 
 seems so preposterously unlikely that you should 
 need my friendship or want it." 
 
 " I need it, and I want it. I am not a happy 
 man, and there are not many things that could 
 help to make me so ; but to have your friendship 
 would be one of these." 
 
 Struan was innocent as the day of any intention 
 of charming this young girl or awakening in her 
 heart any feeling beyond the friendliness which he 
 asked for; but he could not help it that his eyes
 
 36 STRUAN 
 
 upon her face were enthralling to her senses, and 
 his touch upon her hand no less so. He did not 
 know with what a halo of young romance and 
 worshipful admiration this youthful creature had 
 so long invested him. He could not judge of 
 the influence of that fact in the present circum- 
 stances. She had never given one sign of the 
 feeling for him which a thousand women had 
 urged upon him, to his shrinking and distaste. 
 
 As for Jenny, the thing now uppermost in her 
 heart was the thought that he was unhappy. It 
 seemed to signify little that a mere nobody like 
 herself should be so ; but how different it was 
 with this godlike creature ! It seemed hard beyond 
 endurance that he should not have whatever hap- 
 piness it was that he desired. 
 
 Struan interrupted her thoughts by saying 
 quietly : 
 
 "And are you going to promise to be my 
 friend ? " 
 
 An impulse seized her. Without another 
 thought, she raised herself on tiptoe, and kissed 
 his cheek. He half caught her to him, and then, 
 in a flash, released her, and she slipped away. 
 
 " That was sweet of you, dear," she heard him 
 say reassuringly, as she let herself out of the 
 room.
 
 Ill 
 
 POOR Jenny ! That second's impulsiveness 
 cost her days and nights of suffering. 
 What would he think of her, and what 
 had made her do it ? He could only think that 
 she was vulgar and fast and ridiculously conceited. 
 Deeply as she searched her mind, she could find 
 but two motives for this impulsive act, she was 
 sorry and she was affectionate. These two feel- 
 ings, which his words to her had quickened, had 
 led to a sudden act, with which neither thought 
 nor judgment had anything to do. 
 
 But this he did not know, and perhaps he might 
 think that she had dared ! She couldn't bring 
 herself to put it into words, but the very thought 
 of his conceiving her to be guilty of such an as- 
 sumption made her wretched to the bottom of her 
 soul. 
 
 When the time for her next lesson came, she 
 stayed away. She felt that she must brace herself 
 to go on with her purpose, and, after this one in- 
 terval, she would do it ; but this one she felt to be 
 necessary. 
 
 It was a most unhappy morning ; and, when the 
 
 37
 
 3# STRUAN 
 
 usual hour had come and gone, she began to re- 
 pent what she had done. It might look as if she 
 imagined that he would attach some importance to 
 her comings and goings. 
 
 She was sitting alone in her little boarding- 
 house bedroom, feeling very desolate, when a 
 servant came up to say that a gentleman wanted 
 to see her. She knew no gentlemen, and never 
 had visitors. Who could it be ? Neither card 
 nor name had been sent up. A thought flashed 
 through her mind, but she rejected it as impos- 
 sible. A person so great and important had 
 neither the time nor the interest to take this long 
 journey up town for the sake of seeing her. It 
 must of course be some one else. 
 
 But it was not some one else. It was Struan 
 himself, looking peculiarly out of place in the 
 common little parlor, which his vivid personality 
 seemed somehow to transform into a sort of dream 
 place. It looked totally unlike what it had 
 seemed before. 
 
 He came to meet her with the kindest smile. 
 
 " You poor, imprisoned birdling, is this your 
 cage ? " he said, giving her his hand, and bending 
 on her a glance that had a nameless power in it. 
 " After a life in the country, such a place must 
 seem intolerable. It makes me realize the pluck
 
 STRUAN 39 
 
 you've got." Then, with a change of tone and 
 an intensifying of that direct gaze, he added : 
 
 " Why didn't you come to your lesson ? I 
 came to see if you were ill." 
 
 " No, I'm not ill," she said, " only only 
 lazy," she ended, after floundering for a word. 
 
 " Lazy ! You haven't a lazy bone in you ! 
 You ought to have said c only foolish.' But, 
 whatever it was, you look a little pale. I'm going 
 to take advantage of this lovely spring day, and 
 give both you and myself a holiday. In the first 
 place, I'm going to take you to the music hall, and 
 try your voice. It's important, just at this point, 
 to do that. Afterward we're to go to the park. 
 I've announced myself off for the day. So put on 
 your hat." 
 
 Jenny's heart throbbed at the thought, but she 
 stood irresolute. 
 
 He saw it, and said quickly : 
 
 " If you hesitate, I shall think that you distrust 
 me." 
 
 Then she went, without a word. 
 
 She was ready in a very few minutes, a vision 
 of lovely youthfulness, in her smart spring frock, 
 with a pretty jacket, which clothed her slight 
 figure as if lovingly. Her small hat had a pair 
 of bird's wings in it, set apart, like a Mercury's 
 cap.
 
 40 STRUAN 
 
 Still feeling herself a figure in a vision, she got 
 with him into a cab ; and they were driven rapidly 
 through the sunny streets, in the balmy air of 
 early spring-time. 
 
 On and on they went, through streets crowded 
 with business and others crowded with fashion. 
 Fifth Avenue was swarming with carriages, many 
 of them open and filled with charmingly dressed 
 women. Occasionally they would pass a flower- 
 shop on the pavements, in front of which long- 
 housed plants were blooming and swaying in the 
 pleasant air. Most conspicuous among these was 
 one with tall branches covered with a feathery 
 yellow bloom that caught the sunshine with a 
 radiant glow. The vines which veined the stone 
 or brick surfaces of the houses showed in a thou- 
 sand places little buttons and pufFs of green. The 
 windows were decorated with banks of grow- 
 ing plants, chiefly many-colored pansies, riotous 
 with bloom. Every smart-looking man that they 
 passed had a flower in his buttonhole ; and the 
 lovely women, on foot and in carriages, had 
 bunches of jonquils or lilac in their hands or fas- 
 tened to their dresses. 
 
 Jenny felt herself a part of it all, one of the 
 happy dream-figures which the coming of ordinary 
 daylight would prove to be unreal.
 
 STRUAN 4* 
 
 After a while their cab turned, and they stopped 
 before the entrance to the big music hall. 
 
 It at once appeared that Struan was well known 
 here ; and, when he asked to be allowed to go into 
 the great hall to try this young lady's voice, per- 
 mission was immediately given. He went in 
 front of her along the dark passage that led to the 
 stage. Once, where it was very dark, he took 
 her hand and led her. She felt, in his touch and 
 in his guidance, a sense of safety that was some- 
 thing new and delicious to her. 
 
 In a moment the darkness was passed, and they 
 had come out on the big stage and were facing 
 the vast empty room, with its innumerable seats 
 below and its tiers of boxes, row over row, above. 
 
 It seemed to Jenny that she was the merest 
 atom of humanity, and the thought of singing to 
 that immense room filled with critical and unsym- 
 pathetic people gave her a prevision of stage-fright 
 which made her pale and tremble. 
 
 " Isn't this fine ? " said Struan, in his strong, 
 firm voice, turning to look about him. " Most 
 singers say they feel like paying for the privilege 
 of singing in this hall. How does my little singer 
 feel ? " 
 
 " Oh, frightened ! " said Jenny, tremulously, 
 " frightened and disheartened and depressed. I
 
 42 STRUAN 
 
 don't believe that I could ever sing in a place like 
 this." 
 
 " I still have hopes that you may not, though it 
 seems almost useless hoping against such a will as 
 yours. As for the fright, however, that can be 
 overcome. I propose now to go and stand in the 
 centre of the hall, and let you play your own ac- 
 companiment and sing to me. You are not afraid 
 of such an audience as that, are you ? " 
 
 " No, not of you, but of the place. It's so big 
 and gloomy and unsympathetic." 
 
 " So the place may be, but the audience isn't, 
 at least, not unsympathetic, however big and 
 gloomy. But here's a thought to encourage you. 
 You will, for once, be singing under circum- 
 stances in which the entire audience is your de- 
 voted friend. That ought to cheer you up. 
 Come, now, shake hands, and take courage ! " 
 
 It did indeed put courage into her to feel the 
 grasp of his warm, strong fingers. She turned to 
 the piano and played a soft prelude, watching his 
 retreating figure as it lessened down the great cen- 
 tral aisle. The absolute silence between them, 
 above them, all about them, had something mys- 
 terious in it ; and the thought that they were the 
 only beings in that usually crowded place gave to 
 each a like sense of companionship and sympathy.
 
 STRUAN 43 
 
 Supported by this feeling, Jenny lifted her voice 
 and began to sing. After the first few bars her 
 notes were clear and steady. She knew, when 
 she ended, that she had given a fair test of what it 
 was possible for her to do. She realized that her 
 voice did not fill the hall ; but it did well for a 
 mediocre one, so she told herself. 
 
 Struan clapped his hands gently ; and, as he 
 came toward her down the aisle, he waved her a 
 sign of encouragement. When he was at her side 
 upon the stage, he said cordially : 
 
 " Very good, indeed ! I congratulate you. If 
 you want that engagement, you can get it and fill 
 it. There's no longer any doubt about that. Do 
 you still want it ? " 
 
 Jenny bowed her head. A sudden sense of de- 
 pression had seized her in spite of her success. It 
 was unaccountable. 
 
 " More than you want anything else ? " said 
 Struan. 
 
 " More than I want anything that I'm likely to 
 get." 
 
 " I wonder if you really know yourself." 
 
 " Absolutely. Of that there is no possible 
 doubt." 
 
 " Yet I doubt it. But sit down there, on the 
 corner of the director's stand, and let me play to
 
 44 STRUAN 
 
 you a little. I have never played to you yet, 
 have I ? " 
 
 " No. I have often longed to ask you, but 
 I did not feel that I could take up your time." 
 
 " Nonsense ! I've never been so busy yet but 
 that I could have played to you. However, I'm 
 going to do it now. Remember, I am not a great 
 musician, though some good authorities have de- 
 clared to the contrary. Fortunately, I have 
 known my limitations, and all the vast amount of 
 work and study which I have put into it have 
 made me a good theorist and director. My play- 
 ing, however, is no better than may be met with 
 pretty much every day. Still, I am not without 
 hope that I can play so as to please you now." 
 
 Jenny had seated herself on the corner of the 
 little wooden platform, and clasped her hands about 
 her knees. Struan sat down on the piano-stool, 
 and began to play very softly. 
 
 From time to time he looked at her. Once 
 they both smiled, not mirthfully, but with a com- 
 prehension of the unsaid things between their 
 two minds. Helped by the music, that exchanged 
 smile told each that there was much in the heart 
 of the other which would like to utter itself. 
 
 Sometimes, as he played on, he bent upon her a 
 look of absorbed contemplation, the subject of
 
 STRUAN 45 
 
 which seemed to be not so much herself as a cer- 
 tain abstraction of her which he had in his mind. 
 Then again he would look at her quite differently, 
 until she felt that, when their eyes met, their 
 thoughts and souls met, too. 
 
 And all these looks that passed between her 
 eyes and his were accompanied by that ebb and 
 flow of profoundly beautiful music. He played 
 with the ease of a master, so that one almost lost 
 sight of the contact between the player and the 
 instrument, and could imagine that he expressed 
 himself as if with another voice. He scarcely 
 looked at the keys, but kept his eyes, for the 
 most part, upon Jenny, who sat with lowered lids. 
 Once, mingling with a harmony of deep, sweet 
 chords, came the sound of his voice. 
 
 " Jenny," he said distinctly. 
 
 She raised her eyes to his. 
 
 The music ceased. 
 
 " I was thinking," he said, " how often I had 
 stood upon that little dais, directing an orchestra, 
 and that every time I did so, in the future, I 
 should seem to see you sitting there, just on that 
 left-hand corner, as you are doing now. Where 
 will you be then, I wonder ? " 
 
 A gush of sadness, sweeping across her heart, 
 made Jenny spring suddenly to her feet, possessed
 
 46 STRUAN 
 
 by a sense of fear which she did not herself under- 
 stand. 
 
 He got up, too, and closed the piano. 
 
 "My dismal playing has made you sad," he 
 said. " Come, we will go now. This little play 
 is played out." 
 
 They both laughed, with a sense of relief at 
 having the strain broken. As they returned 
 through the long dark passage, he did not again 
 give her his hand, but said merely : 
 
 " You know your way back, don't you ? " 
 
 And she answered : 
 
 " Yes, perfectly," and that instant stumbled, 
 and would have fallen if he had not caught her. 
 At this they both laughed again, and so emerged 
 into the bright light of day. 
 
 When they were in the cab, he gave orders that 
 they should be driven to the entrance of the park. 
 
 As they were going along, Jenny said : 
 
 " I haven't thanked you for your playing or told 
 you how I enjoyed it." 
 
 " No, by the way, so you haven't ! I hadn't 
 noticed the omission. Pray proceed." 
 
 Jenny laughed and blushed, and said nothing. 
 
 " I am waiting," said Struan. 
 
 " How absurd ! " said Jenny. " Nothing is 
 more stupid than to try to express yourself in
 
 STRUAN 47 
 
 words to some one who understands much better 
 without them." 
 
 " Profoundly true, and on that principle I have 
 not tried to thank you for your song." 
 
 " Oh, my singing ! " said Jenny, airily. " That 
 sort of thing can be nothing to you. It's enough 
 if you put up with it." 
 
 " You are wrong," said Struan, gravely. " I 
 should love it much under circumstances which I 
 can imagine, but these circumstances are not rep- 
 resented by the stage. I'll tell you this for your 
 comfort, however. If I could succeed in separat- 
 ing your voice from you, I should be heartily 
 charmed with it on the stage." 
 
 Jenny felt, in her heart, that this commendation 
 was even more than she could have asked. 
 
 They drove on after this in silence, until they 
 reached the entrance to the park. There Struan 
 stopped the cab and dismissed the driver. 
 
 " You would not believe that there are quiet, 
 sheltered spots in this great public place, would 
 you ? " he said, as they walked along. " There 
 are, however ; and I propose to show them to 
 you." 
 
 Very often, in their passage through the crowd, 
 people bowed to him. Sometimes these were men 
 on foot or on horseback, and sometimes charming
 
 48 STRUAN 
 
 women, in carriages. Jenny thought she per- 
 ceived an unusual cordiality in these glances, as 
 though his friends were really glad to see him. 
 Then it occurred to her that it might only be a 
 reflection of the cordiality with which he greeted 
 them. She had never seen a man whose face and 
 manner so expressed good will. 
 
 When they had gone further yet, past the great 
 metal beast couchant in the leafless bushes, past 
 the lake and the boat-house, and out of sight of 
 the prying eye of Cleopatra's Needle, they turned 
 into a side path, where the breath of spring-time 
 pervaded the air, unmingled with the scent of dust 
 and crowds. Farther away from houses and 
 people did they go, and nearer to hillsides and 
 verdure, until they were in a spot shut off from 
 outside observation. Here on a sloping bank, 
 under tall trees, Struan paused. 
 
 " We will sit down awhile if you please," he 
 said. " Isn't it quiet and country-like and sweet 
 here ? " 
 
 " Delicious," said Jenny, as she accepted the 
 seat which he had made for her by folding the 
 light overcoat which he had carried on his arm, 
 and placing it at the foot of a large tree. 
 
 " Are you comfortable ? " he asked, looking at 
 her with a smile of pleasant consciousness, as he
 
 STRUAN 49 
 
 seated himself on the grass, a little lower down 
 the slope of the hillside. 
 
 " Perfectly, except about you. I am afraid you 
 will take cold, sitting on the ground." 
 
 "It's quite dry, I assure you; and, besides, I 
 never take cold. I have the most indomitable 
 health. Nothing seems to hurt me. I suffer 
 from sleeplessness at times, and my nerves get all 
 awry, but never anything more than that. May I 
 light a cigar ? " 
 
 As Jenny acquiesced and sat watching him, she 
 became aware that a certain change had come over 
 him. His manner had lost its friendly familiar- 
 ity. It was reserved, and almost cold. When he 
 had smoked in silence for a few minutes, he 
 looked at his watch. 
 
 " We have a good hour yet," he said, " before 
 it will be necessary for us to leave, in time to get 
 you across your threshold in broad daylight. I 
 left word that I was to be absent all day, so I am 
 free of engagements. You are willing to sit here 
 with me for an hour, are you not ? " 
 
 " Willing ! " exclaimed Jenny, with a sort of 
 reproach in her voice. She was surely a naive 
 creature, and her naturalness was the very quality 
 to make the strongest possible appeal to Struan. 
 So he looked at her now with a smile as spon- 
 taneous as her tone had been, and said :
 
 50 STRUAN 
 
 " I wonder if you know how unlike other 
 people you are, and how the very fact refreshes 
 me." 
 
 Jenny blushed with pleasure. 
 
 " I don't know what I am," she said ; " and, so 
 long as you like me, I don't care." 
 
 The bluntness of the avowal evidently did not 
 displease him. 
 
 " We are friends, real friends," he said kindly, 
 " are we not ? " 
 
 u Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! If you will let me be," 
 said Jenny, clasping his proffered hand in both her 
 own. 
 
 " Let you, my child ! I want you, I need you 
 for my friend. You are a trustful, confiding 
 creature, who may need my friendship ; and it shall 
 not fail. I hate to say it, but I fear that life will 
 prove to you that you are too trustful." 
 
 " You are wrong," she said quickly, dropping 
 his hand. " I am not so to every one. I can 
 take care of myself better than you imagine. 
 But with you I could never feel anything but ab- 
 solute trust." 
 
 " I must see to it that you have no reason to 
 regret it," he said, " the more so as your knowl- 
 edge of me is, I suppose, extremely limited. I 
 wonder how much you do really know," he 
 added with a smile.
 
 STRUAN 51 
 
 " I know enough. I know everything," she 
 said impulsively, " in knowing you as you are." 
 
 " My child, you know little, too little, to rest 
 any reasonable trust upon ; and so all the world 
 would tell you. You have a habit, I see, of trust- 
 ing your intuitions. It will not always do. But 
 tell me this. What do you know of my life, my 
 circumstances, my family ties, anything at all ? " 
 
 " Very little," she said. u I found out years 
 ago that you were married and had a son, that 
 was when I first knew about you. I have never 
 heard anything since." 
 
 " You didn't know, then, that my wife was 
 dead ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," said Jenny, quietly, as if the matter did 
 not deeply concern her. She had, in fact, never 
 thought or cared whether he was married or un- 
 married. She only wanted him as a divinity to 
 worship ; and he answered that purpose equally 
 well, either way. Of course, it went without say- 
 ing, in her candid little heart, that she would have 
 married him with rapture if she had had the op- 
 portunity ; but it had never crossed her mind that 
 such a thing was possible to her humble life. 
 
 In the silence that followed her last word, she 
 felt that Struan looked away from her. So she 
 bent her eyes upon his face, and was impressed
 
 52 STRUAN 
 
 anew with its look of sadness. Instantly a throb 
 of sympathy thrilled to her heart. It was, per- 
 haps, grief for the loss of his wife that made his 
 face look so. 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry for you ! I do pity you," she 
 said fervently. 
 
 Instead of softening under her look and tone 
 of melting sympathy, his face seemed to harden. 
 She could not understand it, but she went on in 
 much the same tone. " I might have known that 
 you had had some great sorrow in your life," she 
 said. " I did know it. I have felt it since the 
 first moment I saw you." 
 
 A slight frown gathered on her companion's 
 face. 
 
 " You misunderstand," he said hastily, as if to 
 prevent her going on. " I have had great sorrow 
 in my life, but it is not what you suppose." 
 
 " I know nothing. I do not ask to know. I 
 have not even the right to suppose at all. Only 
 it seems to me that the worst troubles only come 
 into people's lives through marriage." 
 
 " You are very near the truth there, I think," 
 he answered ; " and it has been through marriage 
 that my worst trouble has come." 
 
 Jenny was silent a moment. Then she said in 
 her simple, blunt way,
 
 STRUAN 53 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " Of course not. How should you ? " 
 
 There was a certain wistfulness in his voice, a 
 certain hesitation, as if he dallied with an idea 
 which had a temptation for him. While this 
 dubiousness was in his heart and in his eyes, 
 Jenny's voice said with a frank alluringness : 
 
 " Tell me about it." 
 
 He started slightly. 
 
 "Tell you about it!" he said. "Why should 
 I?" 
 
 " Because I am your friend," she said. " Why 
 should you not ? " 
 
 " It is a thing I have never spoken of to any 
 human soul." 
 
 " Why ? " she said with a direct abruptness 
 very characteristic of her. 
 
 " Because I have never felt that I could speak 
 of it to any one." 
 
 " But you feel so now," she said with convic- 
 tion. 
 
 Both words and manner startled him. They 
 were so absolutely the expression of what he felt 
 within him, a sudden, strong possession by a 
 totally new impulse and desire. 
 
 He was aware of a great longing to utter to 
 this girl the secrets so long locked tight within his
 
 54 STRUAN 
 
 breast, to knock down barriers, as with a sud- 
 den, irresistible impetus, and lay bare to her eyes 
 the thoughts and feelings he had shared with 
 none. Her absolute unconventionality, her ig- 
 norance of life and the forms of the world, at- 
 tracted him powerfully. The pure nature of her, 
 the simplicity which made her say, " Why should 
 you not ? " impelled him to echo her question. 
 
 " Why should I not ? " he said aloud, with a 
 certain eagerness in his voice ; and the next in- 
 stant he added, " I will ! " 
 
 She waited expectantly, but he did not speak at 
 once. 
 
 Presently he said : 
 
 " You will not think me presumptuous to as- 
 sume that you will be interested in my long story ? 
 It will not bore you ? " 
 
 Jenny's direct gaze seemed to concentrate, until 
 it looked him through and through. 
 
 "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" she said. 
 
 The question searched for his inmost conscious- 
 ness, and found it. 
 
 " Yes," he said almost humbly, " I am." Then 
 he added, " Shall I tell you the plain, unvarnished 
 truth ? " 
 
 She made an impatient gesture, as if begging 
 him to hurry.
 
 STRUAN 55 
 
 " 1 was scarcely more than a boy when I mar- 
 ried," he said. " That may have had something 
 to do with it, but not much. We were both too 
 young to know our own minds, and I had just the 
 temperament to make a fatal mistake in marriage. 
 Why she married me, poor girl, I do not to this 
 day understand ; for, although she had a certain 
 affection for me, she never loved me. Possibly, 
 she was not aware of this fact till she made the 
 discovery after marriage, when I made it, also. I 
 was very young, and, at first, was totally unable 
 to account for the unhappiness in which we both 
 found ourselves plunged. Now, after twenty 
 years more experience of life, I understand the 
 matter better. I was passionate, romantic, im- 
 pulsive ; and I had believed that I loved this 
 woman supremely, and should get from her an 
 equal return of the intense feeling which I had 
 to offer her. Before long, however, I found that 
 she was absolutely incapable of it, that her 
 nature was the very opposite of mine. We lived 
 on in misery and misapprehension of one another 
 year after year. It was within the first year 
 of our marriage that our only child was born, 
 and on this boy both our hearts became fixed. 
 I soon proved anew the radical difference of 
 our natures. While to me it seemed, as it ever
 
 56 STRUAN 
 
 must, that the love of father for child is a second- 
 ary and inferior thing to the love of husband for 
 wife, to her it was evident that maternity was the 
 supreme feeling. She lavished upon this child the 
 devotion and the endearments for which I had 
 been starved, though even before the baby's birth I 
 had been thrust back upon myself so persistently 
 that my love had greatly cooled. This, instead of 
 grieving her, was so manifestly to her taste that 
 pride came in, and rendered me colder still. Life 
 was almost intolerable on these conditions. I 
 was too young to accept willingly the idea of re- 
 nunciation. I thirsted for the fulness of life, and 
 it seemed to me that fate had miserably duped me. 
 After long struggling with the hardness of the 
 conditions about me, I spoke to her about getting 
 a divorce." 
 
 As he uttered the last word, he looked at his 
 companion, to judge of its effect on her. 
 
 " Well," she said impatiently, " go on." 
 
 "The idea of divorce, then, does not shock 
 you, does not go against your feeling of right ? 
 I should like to know your judgment on this 
 point." 
 
 " Oh, what does that matter ? " she said, impa- 
 tient of the interruption. " I have never thought 
 about the question. I've never had to. But I
 
 STRUAN 57 
 
 can tell you this. It doesn't go against my feel- 
 ing of right as much as marriage without love 
 does, I don't care what anybody says ! I know 
 that to be wrong from my own heart and soul, or 
 whatever the highest part of me is." 
 
 Struan looked at her with undisguised pleasure 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " It's a rare thing," he said, " to talk to a 
 woman who has the courage of her opinions, and 
 a still rarer thing to find one whose opinions are 
 of her own making, as yours evidently are." 
 
 He paused, arrested by the fact that Jenny was 
 not interested in what he was saying and scarcely 
 restrained her impatience for him to return to his 
 story. 
 
 " What did she say to the divorce ? " she asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I can hardly describe to you her absolute ter- 
 ror at such an idea. It was something pitiable to 
 see. She sobbed, and pleaded with me far more 
 passionately, I am sure, than she would have done 
 for her life. She declared that she could not and 
 would not bear it, that she would kill both herself 
 and the child first. Of course, under these condi- 
 tions, I could not have got a divorce, even if I 
 would ; and I no longer entertained the idea. She 
 was very delicate, poor thing ; and I could not
 
 58 STRUAN 
 
 have had the cruelty to persist in a thought which 
 so tortured her. 
 
 " Afterward I made an effort to find out the 
 real secret of her abject terror of the divorce idea. 
 Much of it, I found, was what is called, in relig- 
 ious parlance, ' human respect.' Her dread of the 
 world and its comments was in direct proportion 
 to my indifference to it. Well, at all events, I 
 had to give it up," he said, shifting his position, 
 and drawing a deep sigh, while at the same time 
 he pushed his hat back a little from his forehead, 
 as if the constraint of it hampered him in the free- 
 dom of this talk. 
 
 " And your son ? " said Jenny, as if afraid of 
 his lapsing into silence, " what of your son ? " 
 
 Surely there was something in the heart of 
 Lucien Struan akin to the sunshine. His face 
 was capable of expressing a radiance that was al- 
 most startling. Jenny had never seen that look 
 upon his face before ; but now, on seeing it, she 
 answered it with a laugh. 
 
 " Ah, how you love him ! " she said ardently. 
 
 " Ah, how you understand me ! " he answered, 
 as if in gratitude. " I have had a miserably de- 
 prived and disappointed life," he went on. " It 
 is a relief to admit it in words at last. I have 
 been thwarted in all the strongest impulses of my
 
 STRUAN 59 
 
 nature, denied in all the tenderest desires of my 
 heart, except in one thing only, where that boy 
 of mine is concerned. There I have had fulfil- 
 ment, fruition, satisfaction." 
 
 " Tell me about him," said Jenny, simply as a 
 child listening to a story. 
 
 " His name is Leonard." 
 
 " Leonard ! " she said, as if testing the sound, 
 I like it." 
 
 " He is nineteen years old. Think of it ! Al- 
 most as old as when I made that marriage, so fatal 
 to us both ; for she, poor woman, suffered much as 
 well. And, in addition to her sorrow and regret, 
 she had permanent, chronic ill-health, while I was 
 unconscious of what illness meant. I want never 
 to forget that. I am sure that to this cause was 
 due the change which took place in her feelings 
 toward Leonard. When he grew out of baby- 
 hood, he soon manifested a great devotion to me; 
 and, as he was very strong and very intelligent, I 
 was able to take him into my life a great deal, and 
 have him much about me. Perhaps his evident 
 preference for my company hurt his poor mother, 
 or perhaps the increased nervous strain of her long 
 illness made her impatient of a child's noise and 
 restlessness. Whatever it was, she changed 
 toward him ; and a sister who lived with her
 
 60 STRUAN 
 
 came, in time, almost to take a mother's place to 
 him. The boy seemed to fret and worry her, and 
 she was evidently relieved when I suggested send- 
 ing him off to school. After that he only saw her 
 occasionally, as she grew more and more delicate 
 and nervous ; and it was with her entire consent 
 that three years ago I sent him abroad to the 
 school where I had been." 
 
 " And he is there now ? " 
 
 " Yes. I went over last summer, and we 
 travelled together for a month or so. He is a 
 glorious young being," he said ardently. And 
 it was in the same tone that Jenny answered : 
 
 " Oh, he must be, for you to love him so ! " 
 
 Struan felt a strange sense of comfort. His 
 companion's sympathy enclosed him like an at- 
 mosphere. 
 
 " Even to you," he went on presently, " I can- 
 not tell the wretchedness of those years of mar- 
 riage, a marriage that was no marriage, its 
 whole basis and structure being false. Poor 
 Rachel ! She never, even in dreams, caught a 
 glimpse of the feeling upon which real marriage 
 rests. For a while I sank into the hopeless belief 
 that the feminine nature could never comprehend 
 or respond to the masculine, and that all women 
 were like her. It was a dangerous hour for me 
 when I found out my mistake."
 
 STRUAN 61 
 
 He tossed away the end of his cigar, and drew 
 himself into a more upright position. 
 
 " I was rescued from that danger, however," he 
 went on, " and from others which followed it. 
 My fatal mistake was in marrying so young, be- 
 fore I could know what I wanted or could judge 
 what a woman was able to give. I was meant for 
 marriage and domestic life. I could have been 
 happy in it ; and, more than that, I could have 
 given happiness. The realization that I was cut 
 off from it completely has been the regret, the 
 pain, the tragedy, of my life." 
 
 " Great heavens ! " said Jenny, locking her hands 
 together tight, and pressing them, so clenched, 
 hard against her breast. " You say I understand 
 you ; and so, up to a certain point, I did : but not 
 now. I fail utterly to comprehend such a course 
 in man or in woman." 
 
 " What course ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, letting yourself be cut off from happi- 
 ness, submitting yourself to any conditions that did 
 cut you off from it. Great heavens ! " she said 
 again, and this time with an inflection as of scorn. 
 " If / had a chance of happiness, such happiness as 
 it is in you to command, I'd have it ; and I'd pay 
 the cost." 
 
 Struan looked at her with intense interest. He
 
 62 STRUAN 
 
 felt that here was a woman who was revealing her 
 very inmost self. It was a rare insight for a man 
 to have ; and it whipped up strangely his zest for 
 the investigation of the life-motives and heart- 
 problems which had always so interested him, an 
 interest which, of late years, had begun to flag. 
 The reason for this was, in great part, because of 
 the conventionality which made most men and 
 women strive to realize what was demanded by 
 the world without them rather than the soul 
 within them. Here, he felt, was an exception to 
 this rule. This knowledge was intensely precious 
 to the psychic consciousness which was so large 
 an element in him ; and the fire in his eyes now, as 
 he sat upright and looked at Jenny, was kindled 
 by this feeling more than by any other. 
 
 There was fire in the eyes of Jenny, too, from 
 whatever cause it came. 
 
 " I have no regrets of that sort in my life, thank 
 heaven ! " she said. " I have nothing to reproach 
 myself with, because I've never had any chance. 
 But you ! Great heavens ! what you might have 
 had ! what you have missed ! " 
 
 Her words and looks worked on him strongly, 
 quickening into keener life the sense of loss, de- 
 nial, deprivation, which had so become a habit with 
 him that he was usually unconscious of it.
 
 STRUAN 63 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I might have had it ; and I 
 have missed it." 
 
 " I would have had it. /would not have missed 
 it. And, in your place, I would have it yet." 
 
 The fervor of her spirit heightened mysteriously 
 the beauty of her face and figure. She looked the 
 very epitome of youthful fire and feeling, bound 
 up in an outward form of such charming hues 
 and curves as brought to Struan's heart once more 
 a sweet and sudden breath of the wild freshness of 
 morning. 
 
 " Tell me," he said eagerly, " tell me what 
 you would have done. Tell me what you would 
 do." 
 
 " What I would have done ? I would have 
 broken those shackles that bound me to a being 
 who was not my mate ! I would have felt that I 
 degraded her and degraded myself in preserving 
 such a bond ! " 
 
 " And what of the comments of the world ? " 
 he said. 
 
 He was studying her with an acute interest, and 
 he awaited almost breathlessly her answer to his 
 questions. 
 
 " The world ? Pooh ! " she said with an ac- 
 cent of scorn. " What does the world care for 
 me ? As little as I care for it ! "
 
 64 STRUAN 
 
 There was something in this point of view 
 which made a strong appeal to him. It was so 
 great a contrast to that of his wife. He knew 
 that the strained conditions of their marriage had 
 weighed like lead upon her, that she would 
 gladly have been free and given him his freedom 
 but for the all-importance of this factor of the 
 world's criticism. 
 
 " But you are putting yourself in my place, re- 
 member," he said in answer to her last words. 
 " I could not pretend to the obscurity which is so 
 often a boon. I had put myself in a public posi- 
 tion before the world, and so challenged its atten- 
 tion. I was well known, and the fact has a cer- 
 tain responsibility with it. How then ? " 
 
 "The same!" she said, looking him bravely in 
 the eyes. "Were I like you, nothing, nothing 
 should deprive me of my heritage of joy ; and I 
 mean by that joy in love." 
 
 She said it unblushingly ; and the contrast with 
 the woman who had despised love as low and 
 lowering, and with whom he had for years com- 
 batted that idea in vain, made a strong appeal to 
 him. 
 
 " But it's useless," she went on, a faint, faint 
 tremor in her voice, which some subtle compre- 
 hension conveyed to his soul rather than to his
 
 STRUAN 65 
 
 ears. " I cannot put myself in your place. You 
 are a man, and must look to your career. I am a 
 woman, and a woman's career is love." 
 
 The words thrilled him, spoken with the cour- 
 age and the fervor that sounded in the voice of 
 this beautiful young thing; for in this moment 
 Jenny looked no less than beautiful. 
 
 " Then you value personal joy more than gen- 
 eral good ? " he asked, half-smiling. 
 
 " I value love beyond everything," she said. 
 
 Strange how that reckless, ruthless answer 
 pleased him ! He had fancied that the question, 
 so put, would perhaps force her into a conven- 
 tional answer. And, when she answered as she 
 did, he gave a little laugh, as if he revelled in the 
 courage of her. 
 
 The sound of that laugh recalled him to him- 
 self. He realized that he had been strangely off 
 his guard. He shifted his position, moving down- 
 ward on the grass, so as to be a little below her 
 and further away ; and he turned so that only his 
 profile was toward her. 
 
 For some minutes he sat so, looking before him 
 in silence. He had taken off his hat ; and his 
 hair, dark and short, was a little dishevelled. His 
 deep-set eyes had an alert, keen-visioned look, 
 which gave to his face an expression of intense
 
 66 STRUAN 
 
 vitality. His nose, straight, strong, and rather 
 short, showed a slight distention of the nostril ; 
 and his jaw was set in a way that made his lower 
 lip protrude a trifle beyond the upper. His 
 mouth was firmly compressed under the short 
 dark mustache. His whole expression and atti- 
 tude indicated an excited self-control. 
 
 Jenny looked at him ; and, as she looked, she 
 worshipped. It was an old feeling with her now. 
 She had worshipped him for years, before she ever 
 saw him ; and sight and knowledge of him had 
 vastly added to this feeling. But now, to-day, 
 something new was stirring in her breast, a 
 thing that made her pulse-beats fast and her 
 breathing thick, and seemed to stretch and ex- 
 pand her heart with a sweet, delicious ache. She 
 sat still and acquiescent, giving herself up to this 
 new and poignant feeling, offering no barriers of 
 question or doubt to its entering in and taking full 
 possession of her. 
 
 He was not looking at her. Perhaps it would 
 have made no difference if he had been. Her 
 eyes were as free and willing as her spirit. She 
 had no thought of forbidding them to look what 
 she felt. The sweet, bewildering pain that had 
 possession of her was something she had never 
 felt before ; but every pulse and nerve within her 
 yielded to it, wooed it, rejoiced in it.
 
 STRUAN 67 
 
 Unconscious of her fervid gaze, the tension of 
 Struan's face seemed every second to increase. 
 There was evidently some strong feeling at work 
 in him, and he felt the necessity of constraint as 
 Jenny felt the instinct of freedom. 
 
 Those few moments seemed a long, long while 
 that he forbade himself to look at Jenny, and she 
 indulged herself in looking to the full at him. 
 
 She looked intently, scrutinizingly, piercingly, 
 as it were, noting every detail, in the actual hun- 
 ger of her gaze. The dark hair, sprinkled with 
 gray ; the broad brow, lined with many a mark of 
 care j the lowered eyes, rigidly fixed and con- 
 trolled ; the firm nose, with the nostril that yet 
 trembled slightly ; the set lips, that yet faintly 
 quivered ; the strong jaw, so compressed that the 
 strained muscles within moved under the flesh as 
 the locked teeth were pressed together harder 
 and harder, all these she saw with a mingling 
 of love and longing that suddenly escaped her in 
 a little cry. 
 
 It was no articulate word ; but no word ever 
 invented by man could have so expressed her, so 
 uttered the passion in her heart, so matched ti)^ 
 fire of her gaze. 
 
 Its effect upon Struan was as if electric. He 
 sprang to his feet ; and, as if by one impulse, she
 
 68 STRUAN 
 
 was standing, too. And so they looked at each 
 other face to face. 
 
 Away with shackles then ! His eyes had got 
 free in a twinkling, and they met and reflected 
 hers, which, by the reflection of his, glowed ever 
 brighter and bolder. But his hands, stretched 
 straight and rigid at his side, still answered to 
 what remained to him of purpose and control. 
 
 The next instant Jenny had reached forth and 
 caught them in her own ; and, at the softness of 
 her touch, they softened, too, and let themselves be 
 clasped and pressed. She would have drawn him 
 closer ; but there was a vestige of resistance left, 
 and he hardened his muscles to remain where he 
 was. 
 
 She seemed to understand the effort ; but it only 
 made her laugh, a gay, bewildering laugh, that 
 showed her red lips parted and her dazzling teeth. 
 
 " What's the use ? " she said, and gently tried 
 again to draw him to her. 
 
 Physically she was weak as a child compared to 
 him ; but he felt himself yielding, and moved 
 toward her a short step or two. 
 
 " You know the truth," she said, her radiant 
 face so close beneath his own that he felt her 
 whispered breath upon his cheek. 
 
 " What ? " he said, as one bewildered.
 
 STRUAN 69 
 
 " That we love each other." 
 
 At the words the light that burned within his 
 eyes flared up and blazed upon her. She could not 
 bear the radiance of it. It was too insupportably 
 sweet. She threw her arms around his neck, and 
 closed her dazzled eyes against his throat. 
 
 The next instant all had changed. She was 
 resting upon him, weak and pliant, while over her 
 face, her eyes, her lips, his kisses fell, and round 
 her trembling form his strong arms clung, as if 
 they would let her go from him no more forever. 
 
 To Jenny, in spite of all her courage of love, 
 this was a new and mighty wonder; and she was 
 as if in a trance of bliss, how long she did not 
 know, until she felt herself resting, contented 
 and quiet, in his arms. 
 
 Then consciousness of all came back upon her 
 like a wave; and she knew what this meant to 
 each of them. 
 
 The shadows were gathering. She felt safe and 
 happy in his arms, but she wondered that he kept 
 so still. 
 
 She moved her head against his shoulder and 
 sighed, pressing him gently with the arm that was 
 half about him. 
 
 " What is it ? " he whispered. 
 
 " I love you so ! " she said.
 
 70 STRUAN 
 
 " Ah, my child," he answered, in a voice that 
 she did not wholly understand. 
 
 " What is it ? " she whispered in her turn, lift- 
 ing her head to look into his face through the 
 gathering dusk. " Do you not love me ? " 
 
 " I do. So help me, God ! It is my only ex- 
 cuse," he answered. 
 
 " Excuse ? What do you want with an ex- 
 cuse ? You speak as if it were an injury to me to 
 love me." And she breathed a little mocking 
 laugh. 
 
 " That is my fear," he said. 
 
 " Then away with it ! " she cried, snapping her 
 pretty fingers, and drawing herself upright so that 
 she stood a little apart from him. " There is no 
 place or room for fear, if you love me," she said. 
 
 He stepped backward a pace also. 
 
 "I do love you," he said again. "Judge your- 
 self how much I love you, when it has broken 
 through with the habit of restraint of all these 
 years ! I am over forty years of age, and I 
 thought myself completely self-controlled ; but this 
 love for you, which has leapt up so suddenly in 
 my heart, has made me like a child before you. 
 There is no doubt that I love you, Jenny ; but I 
 must get time to think. I have been unpardon- 
 ably, unprecedentedly rash. Thought, judgment,
 
 STRUAN 71 
 
 reason, have had nothing to do with my conduct. 
 I do not know myself as I am now. You must 
 give me time to think ; and, when I have done 
 so, we must speak together, but not now. I am 
 not equal to it now." 
 
 Jenny felt a sudden sense of doubt and fear. 
 
 " Speak together ? " she said. " Of course, we 
 must speak together ; but what is there to say that 
 can alter anything ? When I say I love you, that 
 means all. Oh, if you do love me, if you are 
 not deceiving me " 
 
 Her voice broke, and he could see her tremble. 
 Irresistibly impelled, he moved toward her again ; 
 and she threw herself with abandonment upon his 
 breast, and clung with both arms to him. 
 
 " Oh, my love, my love, my love ! " she said. 
 " I have never loved a man before, and everything 
 except this love counts as nothing to me. 
 Whether you take me or leave me, I am yours, 
 yours forever ! " 
 
 Her lips moved against his throat, and her 
 arms tightened about him. He could feel her 
 warm breath and the throbs of her bounding heart. 
 He stood still for some seconds, his purposes and 
 resolutions slipping from his mental grasp. Once 
 it seemed as if he were about to recover them, but 
 Jenny's sweet lips moved again. He felt as well 
 as heard them as they said :
 
 72 STRUAN 
 
 " I am yours, to take me or leave me, as I 
 said. And you are mine, my own, my own, my 
 own ! my hero, my master, my friend, my 
 ideal, my first and only love ! " 
 
 Suddenly she drew away from him, until her 
 eyes could pierce the gloom dividing them. For 
 some seconds they rested so ; and then their faces 
 moved toward each other, and they kissed. It 
 was the kiss of a solemn and acknowledged pas- 
 sion. 
 
 When he released her, they stood at arms' 
 length, holding each other's hands. 
 
 Struan was the first to speak. 
 
 " God forgive me," he said. " What is it I 
 have done ? " 
 
 " Made my happiness and your own," she said. 
 " What is it that you fear ? " 
 
 11 Many things," he answered. " I should have 
 thought before I brought you here to-day, before 
 I yielded further to the charm and the attraction 
 that you have had for me. But I little dreamed 
 the power of it, or that it would master me as it 
 has done. There is no doubt that I love you, 
 Jenny. The contrast between the man you have 
 seen to-day and the man that I have shown my- 
 self to other women all these years would give you 
 proof of that. And, surely, that I love you is not
 
 STRUAN 73 
 
 strange. But you, you are a very young girl. 
 Do you not think that, years to come, you may feel 
 with despair that I am too old for you ? " 
 
 " If you can say that," she answered, with a 
 ring of indignation in her voice, " I cannot feel 
 that you really love me." 
 
 " You are wrong there, Jenny, all wrong. I 
 shall prove to you that I do love you truly and 
 without a doubt, when I am able to speak as my 
 real self. That is impossible now. In a day or 
 two I shall be stronger and calmer, and so will 
 you." 
 
 Jenny gave an odd little laugh. 
 
 " I am strong now," she said, " strong as a 
 lioness, I think. As for being calm, I don't want 
 to be calm. I'm tired of being calm. The grand, 
 delightful, blessed thing about me now is a feeling 
 of moving, unresting, overflowing joy, which, I 
 trust and pray, will never let me know what it is 
 to be calm again." 
 
 Struan felt once more that sense of rejoicing in 
 the nature of her. 
 
 u You witch ! you child ! " he murmured. 
 He honored her for the rashness and self-forget- 
 fulness of her display of feeling as much as another 
 man would have condemned her for it. He was 
 master of himself again, however; and, by the
 
 74 STRUAN 
 
 time that he had reached the entrance to the park, 
 he had resumed his usual manner. 
 
 " We will wait here for a car," he said, in the 
 voice of the music-master and friend. 
 
 " A car ? " she said, her face falling. " Couldn't 
 we get a cab ? " 
 
 u I suppose we could, but I think the car is 
 better." 
 
 " Why ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because it is more protected. I must think 
 what is best for you." 
 
 " What does it matter r People have seen you 
 with me already." 
 
 "And they must see that I am with you in the 
 proper way. It is not usual for young girls to 
 drive about New York at this hour with men to 
 whom they are not related. We must follow the 
 general rule. For the rest," he added, " I am re- 
 warded now for much, if you knew it, Jenny. 
 You have trusted me instinctively, and the fact is 
 precious to me ; but, if you had made all possible 
 inquiries, you would have learned from every 
 source that I was a man whom you could safely 
 put confidence in. There is no woman who ever 
 trusted me to her hurt, and no breath of scandal 
 has connected my name with that of any woman. 
 So you may feel sure, Jenny, that you can be seen
 
 STRUAN 75 
 
 with me without damage to your sweet good fame. 
 Now do you understand me when I say that I am 
 so richly rewarded for the restraint that I have put 
 upon my life ? " 
 
 Jenny made no answer. Even yet he did not 
 comprehend the abandonment of the love so reck- 
 lessly given and so absolutely unrepented of. She 
 was something of a savage in her nature, and she 
 chafed against even the slight conventionality of 
 going in the street-car instead of in the cab. She 
 had seen a cab go by empty while they were talk- 
 ing, and she had longed to hail it. 
 
 When they were in the car a silence fell be- 
 tween them. The mind of each was too intensely 
 preoccupied with recent emotions and experiences 
 for them to be able to talk of ordinary things. 
 Struan could not get a seat, so he stood in front 
 of her and held to a strap, his tall figure lurching 
 occasionally with the motion of the car. 
 
 They looked away from each other, each face 
 assuming a mask of indifference ; but now and 
 then he would glance down at her or she up at 
 him, as if to verify the thoughts that were pass- 
 ing in their minds. When he saw her absently 
 looking at her lap, or she saw him gazing im- 
 passively before him, these recollections seemed 
 so improbable that each of them felt as if they
 
 76 STRUAN 
 
 must have dreamed. Once only, in these furtive 
 glances, their eyes met ; and then they knew it 
 was no dream. There was a poignant conscious- 
 ness in both the man's heart and the woman's 
 which made their pulses throb so fast, their breaths 
 so quicken, that they were warned against another 
 look. Jenny felt her face grow scarlet, and even 
 Struan had a sense of quick relief in looking 
 around and assuring himself that he had been un- 
 observed ; for, surely, that surge of emotion which 
 he had felt must have made its impress on his 
 face. 
 
 Presently a man got in the car whom Struan 
 recognized, and greeted cordially. They talked 
 together, and laughed occasionally, over things of 
 which Jenny knew nothing. The man was 
 younger than Struan ; and he had an air of interest, 
 and even of deference, in talking to him. He had 
 glanced at her once with a look of respectful atten- 
 tion, but after that both of them seemed to forget 
 her. She resented it. She even felt hurt ; for it 
 gave her a sense of being, of necessity and forever, 
 apart from the life of this distinguished man. But 
 then would come the memory of recent things, and 
 with an easy effort she would recall the delight of 
 his embrace and kiss ; and she felt that he belonged 
 to her, and to her only, and was jealous of every 
 moment's attention that he gave elsewhere.
 
 STRUAN 77 
 
 Presently a woman seated next her got up and 
 went out. When Struan seemed not to notice it, 
 and let some one else take the vacant seat, Jenny 
 felt like crying. How did he divine this feeling, 
 unconscious as she was of having given a hint of 
 it ? But so it was that, when they had left the car, 
 and were walking side by side, he said, 
 
 " I wanted so to take that seat." 
 
 '< Why didn't you ? " 
 
 " Because of the very fact that I wanted it so 
 much that I was afraid that the man to whom I 
 was talking might see it in my face. I am more 
 careful of you, Jenny, than you will allow yourself 
 to see the use of. And now," he added, pausing 
 on the corner of the block in which was situated 
 her dreary little boarding-house, " I am going to 
 take leave of you, Jenny. I won't go all the way 
 to the door. I shall think of you until you come 
 on Wednesday. Good-by, my dear." 
 
 He pressed her hand just one brief second, 
 which seemed to her fond heart so miserably inad- 
 equate a farewell, and then he left her.
 
 IV 
 
 TO Struan the interval of three days before 
 they should meet again was welcome. 
 Jenny felt that this was so, and felt also 
 a restless impatience of such a condition. There 
 was nothing to be gained on her part by the long 
 hours of daylight and darkness, during which she 
 must think of him uninterruptedly and longingly. 
 Her mind was completely made up. She had not 
 one misgiving of her own to conquer, and she 
 longed only for the opportunity to conquer his. 
 
 Her parents were dead ; and her other relatives 
 seemed, in their distant country home, to touch 
 her life as little as if they had lived on another 
 planet. They had long ago adopted the policy 
 of leaving her to her own devices, and she knew 
 that from them she had nothing to fear. She 
 was happy beyond her utmost dreams of joy. She 
 had the love of the man who was supreme among 
 men in her eyes, and she loved him with all the 
 abandonment of her nature. 
 
 At the present moment, however, her impatience 
 hindered her full enjoyment of this consciousness. 
 She was a simple, primitive creature, and knew
 
 STRUAN 79 
 
 nothing of the self-analysis and complicated motives 
 of the fin de siecle woman. She was uneducated, 
 in spite of her shrewdness, and absolutely unrelig- 
 ious. She had thought little, except as to what 
 she wanted and what she didn't want. She knew 
 that she wanted, above all things, love that should 
 be intense in kind as well as degree. She found it 
 now just within her reach, and the man that she 
 so ardently loved loved her. She could not possibly 
 understand any scruples which should keep them 
 apart. 
 
 To Struan all was different. He spent those 
 days in great distress of mind. That he was in 
 love, passionately in love, with Jenny, he did not 
 attempt to deny ; and sometimes, for sweet and 
 agitated hours, as he lay awake during those 
 nights, he indulged himself in happy imaginings of 
 what marriage to that loving, adoring, cheery, 
 wholesome young creature, ardent as himself, 
 would be. The strongest part of Jenny's power 
 over him lay in the fact that she was the absolute 
 opposite of the woman by marrying whom he 
 had wrecked his life. He believed and years 
 of serious and honest thought had only strengthened 
 the conviction that the reason for the failure 
 of that marriage lay in the antagonism of tempera- 
 ment between himself and Rachel ; and he had not
 
 80 STRUAN 
 
 a doubt that it was she who had been at fault there, 
 and not himself. He knew that she was incapable 
 of comprehending ardent and passionate feeling, 
 and that only he believed to be the right basis of 
 marriage. Then he thought of Jenny. What a 
 contrast ! There was the sort of nature that 
 would have been a mate for his ! His hideous 
 mistake in that first marriage seemed more glar- 
 ing than ever. 
 
 Then came the sweet, insidious question from 
 within : Why not remedy that mistake, for his 
 future ? He was still comparatively young in 
 years ; and he knew that, in feeling, he was a 
 youth again, since this scene with Jenny in the 
 park. Ah, she could give him back the wild fresh- 
 ness of morning ! What a gift ! What a boon ! 
 What life and impulse it would put into him, for 
 his work, his career, for everything ! Then it 
 seemed almost a duty to take to him this lovely 
 young being, who had so ruthlessly offered herself 
 to him ! It would be delight, rejuvenation, bliss. 
 
 And why not ? Those were the reasons for 
 it ; and what were the reasons against it ? Faintly 
 and feebly did they utter themselves, in the midst 
 of this tempestuous argument on the other side, 
 an argument in which passion, romance, instinct, 
 inclination, all pitted themselves against cold rea-
 
 STRUAN 8i 
 
 son. For Reason said no, and said it rigidly and 
 persistently. Reason argued that this being who 
 was akin to him in temperament might not be in 
 other things, and Reason declared these other 
 things to be the more important. This, Passion 
 denied. Had it not been proved that feeling was 
 the essential thing in marriage ? At least, to him, 
 Struan, it had been so proved. And, besides, who 
 could tell what possibilities of mental and spiritual 
 development there might be in this charming girl 
 who loved him so ardently ? True, she had given 
 no indication of any mental or spiritual qualities 
 as yet, and Reason urged that there would have 
 been some such indications ; but Feeling scouted 
 the idea, and subdued it with the old fallacious but 
 potent saying, Love is enough ! 
 
 Besides, when all else was said and done, 
 there was Leonard ! And here Reason got her 
 innings ; for, at this thought, Passion felt that there 
 was still a leash upon her. This thought, in spite 
 of all the ardor in his blood, gave Struan pause. 
 Yes, there was Leonard ; and Leonard had a 
 great ideal of his father. To live up to this ideal 
 was the most powerful inspiration of Struan's life. 
 And why should a marriage with Jenny cause him 
 to fall below it ? asked Feeling, arrogantly. And 
 the cold voice of Reason said only : You know.
 
 82 STRUAN 
 
 Then he felt that he did know, deep down in 
 the secret places of his heart ; but overlying these 
 was such a seething, boiling flood of feeling, re- 
 minding him of the sweet scene past, and prompt- 
 ing him toward a renewal of that sweetness, that 
 Reason's voice was well-nigh drowned. 
 
 When morning came, the morning on which 
 he was to see Jenny again, he felt that he had, 
 after some hours of soothing sleep, got himself a 
 little better in hand. Feeling was working still, a 
 mighty force within him ; but Reason was steadily 
 advancing, and disputing every foot of ground. 
 On one point only the two were agreed; and that 
 was in drawing the sharp contrast between the 
 ardent, brave, untrammelled temperament of Jenny, 
 and Rachel, with her cold, prudish, repellent nature, 
 so morbidly timid about the criticisms of her little 
 set. 
 
 One of the strongest elements in Struan's nat- 
 ure was a rebellion against conventionality. He 
 heartily despised it, and had given strong proof of 
 this scorn by shaking himself free from a long 
 line of conservative and aristocratic ancestors, 
 chiefly lawyers, statesmen, diplomatists, and clergy- 
 men, and, obeying the bent of his nature, had em- 
 braced the career of a musician. After a few 
 wretched years of married life, spent in the desper-
 
 STRUAN 83 
 
 ate effort to restrict, restrain, and contradict his 
 real nature, he had given it up, made the best ar- 
 rangements that he could for his wife and child, 
 and gone abroad to continue the study of music, 
 a field in which he had already won distinction. 
 In his life in foreign cities he had lived principally 
 among Bohemians, making friendships with men 
 and women there which were the most affection- 
 ate and enduring ties that he had ever known. 
 Artists, actors, authors, musicians, he had a 
 warm communion with them all ; and no man 
 was ever better loved than these friends loved him. 
 For the men of his own standing 'in the social 
 world he cared little ; and the women, except in 
 rare instances, he despised. 
 
 He had an ideal woman, at this period of his 
 life, who did him good service. She was a being 
 equally passionate and delicate, equally cultivated 
 and broad-minded, equally refined and free, 
 equally religious and tolerant. He had believed 
 intensely in this woman, and for years had looked 
 for her, not with any idea of satisfying the 
 promptings of his love, but with a hope, quite as 
 important and far more possible, that he might so 
 see realized his ideal of womanhood. That hope 
 he had at last given up, that ideal he had reluc- 
 tantly decided to be impossible. The women
 
 84 STRUAN 
 
 whom he met in his professional career were often 
 broad and true and generous in their natures, in 
 keen contrast to his wife ; but they presented a 
 strong contrast to his ideal as well in that they 
 lacked the breeding, the sensibility, the cultivation, 
 which belonged to that ideal, and, in addition to 
 all these, the religion. 
 
 He knew how easy it would be to laugh at him 
 for this last requirement ; for he never entered a 
 church, and he did not know Sunday from any 
 other day except that he was less bound by busi- 
 ness engagements. For all that he was deeply re- 
 ligious, and he had an indestructible faith in the 
 fatherhood of God. It belonged to his ideal of 
 the supreme woman that she should have it also. 
 
 It was long now since he had had dreams of 
 this ideal. Bohemia had furnished him with no 
 semblance of her, and society had made her seem 
 more impossible still. He scarcely ever thought 
 about her now. She belonged to his mistaken 
 past and to his intangible future which lay beyond 
 this life. Somewhere, in another star, she might 
 be waiting for him. 
 
 Another star, however, is an unsatisfactory sphere 
 for an ardent-natured, active-minded man such as 
 Struan ; and he scarcely ever reverted consciously 
 to that dream of his earlier years. The battle of
 
 STRUAN 85 
 
 life was waging round him ; and he took his part in 
 it, through a thousand issues of sympathy and help 
 for others, and he got sympathy and help in return. 
 
 But from no source whatever did he get what 
 to a man of his nature was the supremely important 
 thing, the sympathy of woman. He was too 
 experienced a man to play with the delusive idea 
 of Platonic love. He had seen that bubble burst 
 too often. If he loved his neighbor's wife, as in 
 some cases he did, it was as his neighbor's wife; 
 and that sort of love could not give him the sym- 
 pathy for which he longed. People supposed him 
 to be superior to the need of the sympathy and 
 companionship of women, but that need had never 
 come home to him with a more compelling insist- 
 ency than now when he thought of Jenny. 
 
 Upon what simple lines was this young girl's 
 nature made ! Her unquestioningness of anything 
 but love seemed to him superb. Nothing was 
 plainer than that her life in her country home had 
 been as free as a child's from the consciousness 
 that made so large an element in the lives of most 
 girls. She had called him her first love, and he 
 had not one doubt that her words were true. How 
 free she was from that air of initiation and experi- 
 ence which the best of the women in Bohemia 
 had ! How splendid had been her resolute refusal
 
 86 STRUAN 
 
 to accept any compromise with love ! How bravely 
 she had made up her mind to wed her art, even 
 when she did not pretend to any high place in her 
 profession ! And, then, how pretty she was ! 
 how fearless ! how strong ! The remembrance 
 of her kisses came back to him, keen and poignant, 
 as they had come a hundred times. What a wild 
 creature she was ! and how fearlessly, meeting Love 
 at last, she had put her hand into his, obedient to 
 his every prompting ! The pure, untrodden fresh- 
 ness of her nature, the passion of it, made an appeal 
 both to his senses and his spirit. He longed to 
 accept and rejoice in the love that she was so will- 
 ing to give ; and he knew that he had both the 
 perception and the power rare perhaps to pro- 
 tect her impulsive self-abandonment. This in itself 
 seemed to make a strong demand upon him. 
 
 Struan's life had been a sad one all through. 
 He had forbidden himself a thousand times the 
 things that other men, in his case, would have 
 thought themselves entitled to ; but the denial 
 which he must practise now was infinitely the 
 hardest of all. 
 
 And need he so deny himself? Jenny had said 
 that she was his, whether he chose to take her or 
 to leave her. How he longed to take her ! How 
 his heart rebelled at the idea of leaving her ! How
 
 STRUAN 87 
 
 she loved him ! That was the most terrible part 
 of all. She would have to suffer so. And he would 
 have to suffer, too. There was no doubt of that. 
 But how, if they chose to forego the suffering, 
 and to give themselves up to love ? He was a man 
 of forty-two ; but never, in his most impassioned 
 boyhood, had he felt his blood so quicken, his heart 
 so thrill, to the idea of love as now, when he thought 
 of Jenny.
 
 THAT Wednesday morning Struan got up 
 early, and dressed quickly, with the con- 
 sciousness of a strengthening will and 
 purpose. He had been miserably at fault in that 
 last scene with Jenny. He should never have 
 let her know of his feeling for her. At the 
 first evidence that she gave of her feeling for 
 him he should have cut things short. All he 
 could do now was to right himself as far as pos- 
 sible, and so put into their future intercourse a 
 quality of deliberation and judgment which had 
 certainly been lacking thus far. He must have 
 a plain talk and understanding with her, for her 
 sake and his own. 
 
 The hour for the lesson came. They met 
 quietly, even coolly. Struan, in accordance with 
 a resolution made beforehand, went to the piano 
 and pulled out the stool, seating himself, ready to 
 begin. 
 
 Jenny saw and understood his action. There 
 
 was a certain air of defiance about her as she took 
 
 her stand at his side, and, when he struck the 
 
 proper note, began to sing. Her voice was clear 
 
 88
 
 STRUAN 89 
 
 and steady, and for a time her pride supported her. 
 When the lesson was about half through, how- 
 ever, she felt a dangerous weakness coming over 
 her. She had looked as long as her self-command 
 would permit at that familiar profile. She had 
 learned to know that its present expression, with 
 the lower lip slightly protruding beyond the upper, 
 meant strong feeling under strong command. She 
 was sure that he had thought out the situation be- 
 tween them, and that he had decided it in a man- 
 ner unfavorable to her wishes. How could she go 
 on singing that inane thing supposed to be a 
 passionate love-song, but in reality a mush of 
 sentimentality compared to the fire in her breast ? 
 
 Her voice faltered. She threw down her sheet 
 of music, and said abruptly : 
 
 " What nonsense to keep up this farce ! " 
 
 u What farce ? " he said, facing her. 
 
 " The farce of our acting as if nothing had hap- 
 pened. It may be possible to you. It is not so 
 to me. You are cruel." 
 
 She sank into a chair, and turned away from 
 him, leaning her elbow on a table and resting her 
 chin in her hand. He fixed his eyes upon her, 
 taking in all the dejectedness of her figure and 
 her attitude. Then he said : 
 
 " The pain that it gives me to hear you call me
 
 90 STRUAN 
 
 cruel I must take as a warning. If I deserve it 
 now in a slight degree, I must be warned in time, 
 and not give you reason to apply that word to me 
 in a sterner sense." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she said, turning and 
 facing him. " Please say exactly what you 
 mean." 
 
 u I mean," he said gravely, " that I owe you 
 reparation already. I should not have shown you 
 that I loved you. I should not have taken ad- 
 vantage of your generosity " 
 
 " Wait a moment," she interrupted. " Let us 
 be perfectly honest. You took no advantage. I 
 showed no generosity. It was I, first, who gave 
 expression to my love for you j and do you think 
 I am ashamed of it ? You don't know me ! 
 Where other women women whom I do not 
 comprehend would feel shame, I feel only ex- 
 ultation. And why should I not exult ? The 
 man I love loves me for that you do love me 
 you cannot make me doubt." 
 
 u I don't wish you to doubt it. I have never 
 thought of denying it," he said, warming uncon- 
 sciously under the spell of her fiery truthfulness. 
 She was fine in her splendid candor. It was un- 
 like other women, and supremely unlike one 
 woman.
 
 STRUAN 91 
 
 u Then, if you love me, what else can matter ? 
 Why should we not be happy in our love for one 
 another ? " 
 
 " Ah, Jenny, that is just what I have been ask- 
 ing myself. And there seem to me strong reasons, 
 things that should be considered, at least." 
 
 " What reasons ? " 
 
 11 For one thing, I am too old for you." 
 
 She laughed, throwing her head back sideways. 
 Then, after the emission of that mocking laugh, 
 she looked at him gravely, her lips curling in a 
 scorn from which all mirth had departed. It 
 seemed to say, that look, " I am ashamed of 
 you." And Struan felt ashamed of himself. 
 
 " The question of age I admit to be a minor 
 matter, when other things are right," he said. 
 
 " Well, I should think so ! " answered Jenny. 
 "I did not expect it of you, Mr. Struan, to be 
 giving conventional reasons." 
 
 " ' Mr. Struan,' " he repeated, smiling as if the 
 formality of the term amused him. 
 
 She returned his smile, the same incongruity 
 having struck her. This mutual consciousness 
 alarmed him a little. It was significant of too 
 much. After a moment's silence Jenny went on, 
 as if impatient : 
 
 " Well, what else ? " she said. " We have dis- 
 posed of the question of age."
 
 92 STRUAN 
 
 Struan felt it rather difficult to go on. Some- 
 how, in this resolute young presence, in face of 
 her beauty, her courage, her charm, the reasons 
 which he had thought potent seemed to lose much 
 of their force. 
 
 " Do you know," he said next, " how short a 
 time I have been free from the bond of my first 
 marriage ? You should know that." 
 
 " Why ? " said Jenny. " I don't see that it is 
 at all important. I know nothing, and I shall 
 not ask." 
 
 " It has been scarcely more than a year," he 
 said, "since death put an end to that bond, an 
 obligation to which I can feel that I was faithful 
 to the best of my ability." 
 
 " Feeling that, you need concern yourself with 
 it no further," she said. " The fact that you 
 are free is enough. Indeed, if you were not so, 
 if you were held by any tie but that of love, 
 I should not regard it." 
 
 " Stop, Jenny," he said, divided between admi- 
 ration for her courage of love and fear that she 
 might err too far on the other side. " Don't say 
 that." 
 
 Jenny laughed. 
 
 " Well, I won't say it," she answered ; " but I 
 have no timidity in my love. Go on now, and
 
 STRUAN 93 
 
 tell me your other reasons. If they are no better 
 than these " 
 
 Somehow they seemed to be dwindling, both in 
 number and importance ; but Jenny was waiting 
 impatiently for him to speak. So he said : 
 
 " I do love you, Jenny, so truly, so greatly, that 
 I confess that I am tempted to disregard all else. 
 I must not yield to the temptation, however. I 
 must stop and think. For one thing, there is my 
 duty to my son." 
 
 " And how does that affect the matter ? " she 
 said. " Would you wish his duty to you to come 
 before his duty to the woman he loved ? Would 
 you ? " 
 
 The question impressed him. 
 
 " I should not," he said emphatically. " I have 
 always told him that that was a man's highest 
 allegiance." 
 
 " I should think so," she said with conviction ; 
 and he could detect an inflection of resentment or 
 mortification in her voice. 
 
 " Jenny," he said tenderly, " I am obliged to 
 appear to you now what I am not. Forgive me. 
 You do not understand. Perhaps you think my 
 feelings are not deeply involved, as yours are. 
 Perhaps you think I should not suffer if I gave 
 you up. If you think that "
 
 94 STRUAN 
 
 But he paused, overcome by the sorrow of her 
 face. The tears had sprung to her eyes, and her 
 mouth was quivering. 
 
 "You do not think how I would suffer," she 
 said. " You care only to do your duty to others, 
 and you think nothing of your duty to me. You 
 can do as you please, but on one point you shall 
 not be mistaken : if you part from me now, you 
 will ruin my life. I would not say this if I did 
 not know you loved me. I would not let myself 
 feel it, even. But, knowing that you do love me, 
 if you send me away from you, it will be death to 
 me, or worse. I don't know what will become of 
 me, and I don't care. My life will just be ruined. 
 Ever to hope again would seem to me absolute 
 folly. I worshipped you for years before you ever 
 saw or heard of me. You have been my one 
 supreme ideal. When a young girl has cherished 
 such an ideal through the years, and, meeting him 
 at last in the flesh, has found him more than her 
 dreams had pictured, has then been held in his 
 arms, kissed by him, told that she was loved by 
 him, and then," she added, her eyes blazing be- 
 tween love and indignation, " coolly recommended 
 to give him up for certain flimsy conventions 
 which she despises, and which he ought to despise 
 as much as she "
 
 STRUAN 95 
 
 She rose to her feet, and made a motion toward 
 the door. But Struan had sprung up, too, and 
 placed himself between it and her. 
 
 " You shall not leave me like this," he said. 
 "What you say of me is not true. I have the 
 courage of my love as well as you." 
 
 " Your love ! " she said in a light mocking 
 voice. " What is your love ? " 
 
 He reached forward and seized her hands in 
 both of his, and held them so pressed tight. 
 
 "Jenny," he said, "you absolutely madden me 
 when you speak like that. Don't pretend that you 
 doubt my love for you. That is a thing I will not 
 stand. Look at me." 
 
 But Jenny's eyes were hid behind their lowered 
 lids. She did not lift them, and he said again, 
 
 " Look at me." 
 
 That voice she knew not how to disobey. She 
 looked up and met the dominating gaze of which 
 she was the slave. Her hands shook in his. 
 Two teardrops filled and overflowed her eyes. 
 
 Then in the same all-conquering voice, sunk to 
 the lowest whisper, he said : 
 
 " Now do you believe I love you ? Answer 
 me." 
 
 "Yes," she said, "you love me in your 
 way."
 
 96 STRUAN 
 
 The answer stung him. He dropped her hands, 
 and drew apart from her. She seemed to accept 
 the separation thus implied ; and, turning toward 
 the piano, she began to put up her music in its 
 case. 
 
 " I can say no more," she said. " You know 
 how I feel ; and I, I am afraid, know also how you 
 feel. We need talk no more about it, if other 
 things weigh with you more than love. It is not 
 so with me. Perhaps you despise me for it. If 
 so, I can't help it. I am made that way, and 
 so I am." 
 
 " Despise you for it, Jenny ! I love it, I de- 
 light in it. It is what I admire, in a woman as 
 well as a man. You do not understand me." 
 
 She saw that he was moved, that the thought 
 of parting from her had told upon him. 
 
 She went on tying up her music. Then she 
 said: 
 
 " Yes, I think I understand you. You have 
 made it very plain. We needn't talk about it any 
 more. This will be my last lesson, and I shall 
 not see you again. I will send you, by mail, the 
 money that I owe you for teaching me." 
 
 As she turned as if to go, he took her arm in 
 a firm grasp. 
 
 " You will take your seat in that chair," he
 
 STRUAN 97 
 
 said, pressing her into it, " and listen to what I 
 have to say. For you to talk of paying me money 
 is not only absurd, it is a positive unkindness." 
 
 " Why ? " she said innocently. She had re- 
 mained in her seat, pleased within her at his mas- 
 terfulness. Up to this time she had dominated 
 every man she had come in contact with. " Why 
 is it either absurd or unkind ? " she went on. " You 
 are only my music-teacher, and I am only your 
 pupil who owes you money. If you agree to it, I 
 will deduct for the lessons I have not taken and 
 shall not take. The money, I suppose, is of more 
 importance to you than it is to me, as I have no 
 one to look to for anything and am very poor." 
 
 She said this with deliberate purpose, and she 
 saw that it told. 
 
 "Jenny," he said, with that peculiar kindness 
 of look and tone which she had seen nothing like 
 in man or woman before, " if you meant to cut 
 me to the heart by that, you have succeeded. 
 The thought of your loneliness undoes me. You 
 must give me a little more time to think this mat- 
 ter over, both in its bearing upon your life and 
 mine. But this I will tell you, Jenny, that your 
 need of me can hardly be greater than mine of you. 
 Other men may live their lives and do their work 
 without love, but not I. You accuse me of hold-
 
 98 STRUAN 
 
 ing it a secondary thing, but you are wrong. All 
 my life I have attached the first importance to it, 
 too much, I fear. Always in my heart I have 
 been a seeker after love, not, I must explain, as 
 an end, but as the means to any great end in my 
 life. It may not be so with others, but I know it 
 is so with me. I can never do my best work or 
 render material service to my generation without 
 the help and support of a woman's love, a home, a 
 domestic life. All these years that I have lived so 
 far, I have felt myself hampered by this lack. I 
 ought to be superior to it, I suppose ; but it is my 
 limitation. I love you, my Jenny. Never dream 
 but that I love you ; but I must be alone now to 
 think, away from the spell of your sweet pres- 
 ence. We must part now, but we must see each 
 other again for our final word. Come as usual for 
 your next lesson, and then we will settle it how 
 our future is to be." 
 
 He got up, and, standing in front of her, lifted 
 her two little hands in his big ones, and placed 
 them at each side of his face. They were soft 
 and dimpled as a child's, and their palms were like 
 satin ; but no less sweet to her was the touch of 
 his dark skin, now smooth, now harsh, as he 
 moved her unresisting hands up and down his 
 shaven cheeks.
 
 STRUAN 99 
 
 Jenny's eyes grew big with tears. 
 
 " O Struan," she said, calling him by the 
 name he had lived by in her heart, " I worship 
 you." 
 
 He gently shook the head between her palms. 
 
 " Love me, help me," he said : " don't worship 
 me. I am a weak and joy-loving man, who can- 
 not even yet be sure of himself, in spite of much 
 discipline. My resolution now is to discover the 
 right and do it, at any cost to myself. It is the 
 possible cost to you you generous, sweet, mag- 
 nificent young thing that makes the pang. I 
 am old compared to you, and I must give you the 
 benefit of my hard-won experience. I will try to 
 do the best I can for both of us, my Jenny ; but 
 now I feel weak and bewildered." 
 
 He had taken her hands down from his cheeks, 
 and now he framed her flushed face with his own. 
 
 Jenny lifted one pretty shoulder, and bent her 
 head sideways toward it, so that she might press 
 the dear hand close. Then she reached up, and 
 with her two caressing little hands she drew his 
 dark face nearer. 
 
 " Will you kiss me good-by ? " 
 
 " No, Jenny," he said, shaking his head, and 
 smiling down at her. " I have confessed that 
 I am weak, but I am not weak enough for that."
 
 ioo STRUAN 
 
 He gently drew away from her, as he said these 
 words j and she felt that the interview was ended. 
 
 She went to get her gloves ; and, as she put 
 them on, standing a few feet away from him, she 
 said : " I only ask you to remember this, in mak- 
 ing your decision. If you decide as I wish, 
 you will be securing not only my happiness, but 
 my good forever. Should you decide the other 
 way, you will spoil not only my chance of happi- 
 ness, but you will risk the welfare of my soul and 
 body to an extent that you may not dream of, but 
 which is known to me absolutely. You will 
 think of that, until we meet again. The time will 
 seem long to me, but I shall sweeten it with 
 thoughts of you and of what our love and life 
 may be, if you will let the happiness that waits 
 come in." 
 
 The words called up the picture to his mind. 
 A swift thought came over him that, if he decided 
 they must part, he could hardly dare to see her 
 again. The spell of her bodily presence was too 
 sweet. 
 
 Some occult influence must have carried the 
 thought from his mind to hers. 
 
 " If I should never see you again ! " she cried, 
 as if in terror. 
 
 He could not speak. He stood and looked at
 
 STRUAN ioi 
 
 her in a way that was a recognition of that pos- 
 sibility. 
 
 " O Struan, I cannot bear it ! It is too 
 much ! " she cried ; and, with a sudden burst of 
 tears, she threw herself into his arms, and clasped 
 her arms around his neck. 
 
 To the winds with his resolutions ! They 
 were forgotten in one heart-beat, as he clasped 
 her close and covered her face with kisses. As 
 quickly were her tears forgotten then. They 
 stopped short at their source, as she clung to him, 
 returning his caresses with an ardor equal to his 
 own. 
 
 Out of that trance of joy she came back to the 
 consciousness of apprehension. 
 
 " Swear to me, Struan," she said, " that you 
 will see me once again. I will not go until you 
 promise it." 
 
 " I promise," he said. " Go now, Jenny. We 
 will meet again." 
 
 And Jenny went, exulting in hope for the fut- 
 ure as she exulted in fruition in the past.
 
 VI 
 
 JENNY laughed to herself as she reflected 
 upon the peculiar positions which she and 
 Struan had held during their last interview. 
 It was she who had wooed and pleaded, and he 
 who had hesitated and held back. To a woman 
 of her temperament, this idea was piquant and 
 unusual, not in the least mortifying. 
 
 It was Jenny's habit to scan the papers every 
 morning in search of some mention of Struan's 
 name. Two mornings after her interview with 
 him, she saw a concert advertised, at which Struan 
 was to lead the orchestra. It was to take place at 
 the great music hall where he had tested her 
 voice. She had never seen him lead, and she de- 
 cided to go. Accordingly, she went out and 
 bought her ticket, a single seat which happened 
 to be left in an advantageous place, well in view 
 of the stage. There was no friend whom she 
 could call on to go with her; and, if there had 
 been, there was no companionship that she would 
 have wished now. She was entirely fearless of 
 possible annoyances, such as might have hampered 
 other girls, as she dressed herself with great care, 
 and took a street-car for the music hall. 
 
 102
 
 STRUAN 103 
 
 The great room was brilliantly lighted and tol- 
 erably well filled when she entered it. What a 
 contrast to the empty gloom which had pervaded 
 it when she saw it last ! Entered from the wide 
 corridors, blazing with lights and animated with 
 movement and sound, she could scarcely believe 
 it the same place. 
 
 But there, at one side of the stage, was the little 
 door by which she and Struan had entered ; and 
 there, too, was the dais for the leader of the or- 
 chestra to stand on, the corner of which, where 
 she had sat, he had promised always to associate 
 with her in the future. Would he think of that 
 to-night, she wondered ? Her heart sank. At 
 that moment it seemed ridiculously unlikely. 
 
 The piano had been taken away, and the music- 
 stands and seats for the orchestra were in place. 
 The hall was getting fuller every moment, and 
 presently the seats next to Jenny were taken pos- 
 session of by a fashionable-looking party. As 
 they sat down, Jenny heard a very smartly 
 dressed young girl say : 
 
 " I'm so glad we're in good time. I wouldn't 
 miss seeing Struan come out for anything." 
 
 " O you ! " replied her friend. " I believe 
 that's all you come for, to see Struan. I don't 
 believe you'd know it if the orchestra played on
 
 io 4 STRUAN 
 
 dumb instruments, so long as Struan stood up 
 there and sawed the air and waved his arms and 
 nodded." 
 
 The first speaker laughed good-humoredly. 
 
 " Well, you used to be as bad," she said ; " and 
 the only difference is that you've learned conceal- 
 ment, which I haven't, and don't want to. You're 
 engaged to a prig who has cut you down on en- 
 thusiasms." 
 
 They both laughed, and then grew suddenly 
 quiet as the members of the orchestra began to 
 come out at the rear of the stage and take their 
 places. 
 
 Jenny turned, and looked around her. The 
 tiers of boxes were filled now with a magnificent 
 audience. The rich colors of their costumes and 
 the wavings of their fans made a blur of tone and 
 motion that bewildered her. She seemed a lonely 
 atom in this gay and social place. 
 
 A sharp root of bitterness shot up within her; 
 and an act which she had committed a little while 
 ago seemed to her useless, foolish, and even hu- 
 miliating. 
 
 The act was this. Before starting for the con- 
 cert, she had written on a bit of paper the words 
 " I am here," and had signed it with the initial of 
 her first name and sealed it in an envelope, which 
 she directed to Struan.
 
 STRUAN 105 
 
 On her arrival at the hall she had handed this 
 envelope to one of the ushers in a business-like 
 way, saying that it was important that it should 
 reach Mr. Struan before the concert began. 
 
 It made her cheeks hot now to think of the im- 
 portance which she had assumed that Struan would 
 attach to the announcement on that bit of paper. 
 How could it be anything to him whether she was 
 there or not ? She began to feel that all his argu- 
 ments against marrying her were got up to spare 
 her feelings. He would naturally be too kind to 
 tell her plainly how unequal and absurd a marriage 
 would be between a great and important man like 
 him and an insignificant little nobody like her. 
 Poor Jenny ! She was feeling most unhappy as 
 the last members of the orchestra took their places. 
 
 Then there followed an unmistakable hush over 
 all the house. The people next to Jenny sat still 
 and expectant, gazing at the stage where each one 
 of the musicians now waited in his place. 
 
 Now at the little door at the side Struan's 
 powerful figure appeared, and walked rather quickly 
 across the wide stage to the leader's stand. 
 
 The house burst into loud applause. He had 
 taken his place with his back to the audience ; and 
 he turned, and bowed gravely. 
 
 Poor little Jenny ! She knew only a conscious-
 
 io6 STRUAN 
 
 ness of love, overwhelming, passionate, all- 
 dominating, and at the same time keenly sad. 
 She felt her love for this man a stronger force 
 within her than it had ever been yet, but that he 
 could care for her seemed a wild improbability 
 which she wondered she could ever have been de- 
 luded by. 
 
 Good looks go far with women, and she had 
 never seen Struan look so well. His careful even- 
 ing toilet gave to both his face and figure an air 
 that made him look elegant and distinguished. 
 He bore the ordeal of his present conspicuousness 
 superbly ; and as twice he raised his arm to 
 begin, and was stopped by the applause of the 
 audience, and turned once, and then again, to 
 respond by that grave bow, Jenny's heart was 
 crowded to the point of pain with love, adoration, 
 and longing. 
 
 In response to his third and very decided mo- 
 tion to begin, the orchestra started smoothly off. 
 
 The concert opened with the ever-popular "Last 
 Waltz " of Weber. Jenny listened entranced. 
 She had never heard a really fine orchestra; and 
 never had her senses been so strung to the key of 
 appreciation of the wistful, alluring, passionate, 
 melancholy power of sound as they were to-night. 
 As all those human-throated violins before her, in
 
 STRUAN 107 
 
 long lines, gave out, like one voice, the sound 
 of those keenly sweet staccato notes, while the 
 bow-arms of the players moved as one, and the au- 
 dience remained one vast hush, and Struan stood 
 there, chief among that great assembly, his body 
 erect and still, while his right arm gently beat the 
 time to that delicious melody, it seemed to Jenny, 
 who had lost sight of orchestra and audience alike, 
 that that voice of music was created by his touch 
 upon the air, and that it spoke to her alone. She 
 felt that she would die to have some sign from 
 him. 
 
 Then remembrance came back ; and the hope- 
 lessness of such a possibility made her so wretched 
 that she began to feel that she could not stand it, 
 and must go away. 
 
 When the waltz was finished, the loud ap- 
 plause was all the more noticeable for the calm 
 that had gone before. As it was subsiding, Jenny 
 heard the girl beside her say : 
 
 " Do look at Struan. How still he stands ! 
 He wants the orchestra to have the whole glory 
 of that applause. Good gracious ! Some innocent 
 is sending him flowers. I'm glad of it. It makes 
 him so cross, and I love to see him frown." 
 
 But any who expected him to frown were dis- 
 appointed. As the flowers, a great bundle of red
 
 108 STRUAN 
 
 roses, with long dark green stems and leaves, were 
 handed up to him, he reached for them with a 
 smile. Then, after bowing quickly, he took 
 them, with a manner of great directness, and laid 
 them gently, almost lingeringly, on a certain 
 corner of the dais. This done, he glanced toward 
 the audience, a brief, bright smile touching his 
 face, and a look so concentrated in his eyes that it 
 pierced almost painfully to one heart. 
 
 " What on earth has come over him ? " Jenny 
 heard her neighbor say at the same moment that 
 Struan turned his back and gave the signal to 
 begin the next selection. 
 
 All the blood in Jenny's body had seemed to 
 change its course, and flow backward to her heart, 
 of late so miserable, now so passionately glad. 
 She knew that it had been a signal to her ; and it 
 was as potent and as fully comprehended as if 
 over the heads of all those people between her and 
 the stage there flaunted a banner bearing the sweet 
 word "Joy." 
 
 It was that note which rang out above the 
 thousand others coming from the orchestra now, 
 and Jenny sat as in a trance of bliss. 
 
 She hardly knew what happened after that. She 
 was as quiet as a mouse in her place among all 
 those unknowing people, who sat with friends
 
 STRUAN 109 
 
 about them and talked animatedly between the 
 selections. She had no one to speak to, but she 
 no longer felt alone. The sense of a glorious, 
 wonderful companionship which possessed her 
 made them seem the lonely ones. 
 
 At the end of the concert she saw Struan cast 
 around the house a penetrating, rapid glance, which 
 made her heart beat to suffocation as it passed over 
 her. She knew, however, that she could be no 
 more distinguishable from where she stood, than 
 one of the bees in a swarming hive. 
 
 She saw him take up the flowers after that keen 
 look, and walk rapidly across the stage, and dis- 
 appear. 
 
 Moving slowly from her place with the great 
 mass of people who crowded the aisle, Jenny 
 walked silently along, absorbed in joyful thoughts, 
 and unconscious of everything and every person 
 outside her, until in the lobby she caught a 
 glimpse of an object that made her heart give 
 a sudden leap. 
 
 There, near the entrance door, stood Struan, his 
 overcoat on his arm, his hat in his hand. A little 
 flutter agitated the people about her as they saw 
 him. Those who knew him craned their necks 
 to try to catch his eye, and get a bow from him. 
 Those who did not know him gazed respectfully 
 at those who did.
 
 no STRUAN 
 
 He seemed to see none of them. With his 
 brows contracted and his eyelids slightly drawn 
 together, he was scanning the crowd that poured 
 out of the concert-room, as if in search of some- 
 thing. Presently his gaze fell upon Jenny, and 
 rested there. She was some distance off; and the 
 crowd moved slowly, so that he had to wait. 
 
 As he stood so, some friends came by, and spoke 
 to him. There were both men and women in the 
 party ; and he shook hands in his cordial way, and 
 replied to their greetings with his heart-warming 
 smile. 
 
 As Jenny came along, he drew away from their 
 detaining hand-grasps, and, walking directly up to 
 her, said in his simple way : 
 
 " Here you are, at last ! I was afraid I should 
 never find you in this crowd." 
 
 He offered his arm ; and Jenny took it, con- 
 scious that she was being looked at with sudden 
 interest by the people all around, and proud to her 
 soul in the consciousness. 
 
 He spoke to her now and then as they passed 
 down the steps and out to the pavement ; but he 
 did not look at her, and they were only conven- 
 tional and unimportant words that he said. He 
 stood looking for his carriage, scanning the vehicles 
 about him with keen eyes under knitted brows.
 
 STRUAN in 
 
 Jenny glanced up at him now and then, but the 
 sight of his face so near her made her heart throb 
 .n such a way that she forced herself to look in 
 another direction. Once he said, speaking lowly, 
 as they seemed for a moment to be isolated in that 
 great crowd : 
 
 " It's all right, Jenny. Don't be unhappy any 
 more, Jenny. I have something good to tell you 
 by and by." 
 
 But, even as he uttered these words, his frown 
 did not relax, and his eyes were roving over the 
 carriages in front of him, as if his search absorbed 
 him entirely. 
 
 At last they were seated side by side. He felt 
 for her hand, and held it close, though he turned 
 his face toward the window ; and presently he pro- 
 duced from under the folds of his top-coat the great 
 bunch of red roses that gave out a sweet, half- 
 wilted perfume from their drooped and heavy heads. 
 
 " Here are your flowers, Jenny," he said. " Did 
 you see what I did with them, and did you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 The long strain of joy had been too much for 
 Jenny. She began to tremble violently, while she 
 spoke in sobbing gasps. 
 
 " O my love my master my king my 
 darling ! " she said brokenly ; and, throwing her-
 
 STRUAN 
 
 self back in the corner of the carriage, she burst 
 into passionate tears. 
 
 " Why, Jenny, what is this ? " he said, not 
 venturing to move closer to her, but pressing her 
 hand in a tightened grasp. "You mustn't cry, my 
 darling. Everything has come right, just as you 
 wanted it. Don't you understand why I did not 
 hesitate to claim you and bring you off in sight of 
 all that crowd ? My mind is made up forever. 
 You are to be my wife. Don't cry, my Jenny. 
 You make me wild. I cannot take you in my 
 arms and comfort you, with these accursed lights 
 blazing upon us at every step of the way. But 
 comfort you I will, for every sorrow you have ever 
 known and every one that shall touch your life in 
 the years to come. I can make you happy, my 
 little loved one ; and I will. If I were not sure 
 I could do this, I'd let you go ; but I do know 
 that I can give you such joy as you have never 
 dreamed. The time is near, my Jenny, when we 
 shall be man and wife." 
 
 As he spoke, he got his arm around her, though 
 he came no nearer, and his face was still turned 
 from her. 
 
 The agitation of her heart, told so plainly by 
 the trembling of her little childish body, moved 
 him deeply, as the touch of his strong arm moved
 
 STRUAN 113 
 
 her. She had no share in his scruples and self- 
 restraint. Moved only by the ardor of her love, 
 she threw herself upon his breast, and clung to 
 him with both arms around his neck. 
 
 He could not cast her off, and for an instant 
 he yielded to her ardent embrace. But he did not 
 lose his consciousness of external things ; and, 
 while she still clung to him and tried to draw him 
 close, he disengaged her arms, and managed to 
 put her back in her corner of the carriage. 
 
 Jenny, for her part, felt aggrieved and even 
 irritated. 
 
 " Oh, what does it matter ? " she said. " Sup- 
 pose the whole world sees us ! I want your arms 
 around me, and your kisses, and your love. I 
 have been without you for so long." 
 
 " And I, too, without you, my Jenny," he 
 answered with a fervor as great as her own ; " but 
 that loneliness is past for both of us. We have 
 not long to wait for each other now. Ah ! Jenny, 
 if it is so that I am the bringer of joy to you, 
 judge what you are to me. If only I can make 
 you happy ! " 
 
 This to him was the essential point. He did 
 not realize that it was so to her, also. Of course, 
 she wanted him to be happy ; but the craving of 
 her nature was for personal present joy, and she 
 chafed at the delay.
 
 STRUAN 
 
 u You cannot dream, I could not describe to 
 you," Struan went on, " the hideous disappoint- 
 ment of my first marriage, the years of my 
 young life that were spent in a bewildered effort 
 to crush out my natural and God-given feelings, 
 and render myself the bloodless, crippled creature 
 that I foolishly thought for a while that I ought 
 to make it my object to be ! If you could con- 
 ceive of the hard endurance of the years of that 
 marriage and the intolerable loneliness that came 
 after it, you would realize how much you are to 
 me, how I am half blinded by the joy that has 
 come to me through you. To be loved as you 
 will love me, Jenny, with such pure passion, such 
 surrender of self, such generous affection and 
 friendship as I shall find in you, is to realize on 
 earth a dream that I had put aside to have fulfilled 
 in some far distant star, which should be my 
 heaven. The heaven of the orthodox would 
 never do for me," he said in a voice that sounded 
 of his smile, " until I had lived once and tasted 
 once the joy of human love, as God has ordered 
 it for men and women. The spiritual joys of 
 heaven may be better, but they cannot be the 
 same ; and I want the other first. The pure de- 
 light of giving help one to the other could never 
 be in a world where help was not needed. The
 
 STRUAN 115 
 
 rapture of sympathy exchanged between married 
 friends and comrades could not be in a world with- 
 out human nature and without sorrow. The su- 
 preme delight of love's sufficiency to compensate 
 for every lack could not exist where there were no 
 lacks, and so no room for compensation. Ah ! 
 Jenny, if I have ever rebelled at my lot, it has 
 been only at missing the supreme happiness of 
 human love. I had thought that I was to re- 
 nounce it forever ; and now I seem to feel the 
 gentle reproach of the term, c ye of little faith.' " 
 
 Jenny made no answer; and he somehow got 
 the impression that she was preoccupied, and per- 
 haps had not followed him closely. This was 
 true. She was all-absorbed in the thought that 
 they were nearing home, and that there was a 
 great hunger unappeased within her breast. She 
 had, in this strange way, become engaged to 
 Struan ; and her passionate heart was oppressed by 
 its need to seal the compact with the kiss of love. 
 With her usual candor, she said, as the carriage 
 was stopping : 
 
 " Oh, I did want you to give me one kiss." 
 " And so did I want that kiss, my Jenny," he 
 said ; " but never mind. Come for your lesson at 
 the usual time to-morrow, and I shall have some- 
 thing new and wonderful to teach you,"
 
 VII 
 
 STRUAN had asked for three days' time and 
 consideration to make up his mind as to 
 the future of Jenny and himself; but he 
 had reached his decision in a moment. Indeed, 
 before the sound of Jenny's footsteps had died 
 away when she had left his office after her last 
 lesson, his decision had been taken. He had de- 
 termined to marry her. 
 
 The reasons for this decision were twofold. 
 First was his thought of her. He realized that 
 what she said was true, that she loved him inevi- 
 tably, and with a passion which, if thwarted, might 
 wreck her life. Whether he had been to blame 
 or not for having roused this feeling in her, there 
 the feeling was ; and it had now become his re- 
 sponsibility. Men are more apt than women to 
 marry for this unselfish reason, to secure the 
 happiness of the other rather than of themselves ; 
 and Struan now felt it an obligation to marry 
 Jenny for her own sake. This being so, the sec- 
 ondary element which entered into the case, a self- 
 ish element, was the more readily ertfertained. 
 This consisted of his love for Jenny, a feeling 
 116
 
 STRUAN 117 
 
 as undeniable as hers for him. When once he 
 had come to look upon this marriage as his duty 
 to her, the delight of it to himself almost over- 
 whelmed him. The contrast of this young girl's 
 ardent, wild, untrammelled nature with the cold, 
 repellent, forbidding temperament of Rachel was 
 poignant enough. He would make her happy, 
 please God ! He would reward her for her blind, 
 unquestioning trust in him. 
 
 He did not reflect that his trust in her was just 
 as blind, that he knew little of her in reality. 
 He felt only, in the first place, that he ought to 
 and could make her happy, and, in the second, 
 that he would be made happy himself by marriage 
 with such a sweet young being, who so passion- 
 ately loved him. 
 
 So he had not a vestige of doubt after Jenny 
 left him that Wednesday morning. He felt that 
 duty, as well as inclination, urged him to give 
 himself to this young girl, who had so generously 
 and unstintedly given herself to him. 
 
 It was because of these two reasons that Jenny 
 triumphed. Duty, apart from inclination, would 
 not have sufficed. Neither would inclination 
 apart from duty. But both together were absolute, 
 and there was no hesitancy left in his mind. He 
 would force himself, however, to wait the three
 
 n8 STRUAN 
 
 days out. He knew the danger of precipitancy in 
 such matters, and the very strength of his decision 
 made him determine to be deliberate and to allow 
 this interval agreed upon to go by without another 
 meeting. Deep, deep within his secret heart there 
 remained yet a misgiving; but it was too faint 
 in itself, too crowded down by the emotions of de- 
 light to which he had now abandoned himself, to 
 count for very much. And, since his mind was 
 made up, since happiness was so near, he felt 
 willing and able to make this concession to reason, 
 and to wait patiently for the appointed time. 
 
 So, when he got her note at the concert that 
 evening, he gave himself up unrestrainedly to the 
 consciousness of joy which her presence gave him ; 
 and the music of his splendid orchestra made a 
 divine accompaniment to it. It was an hour of 
 almost supreme pleasure to him. Indeed, it would 
 have been without a cloud but for the thought of 
 Leonard. 
 
 He would have liked to tell Leonard before 
 taking such a serious step ; but he knew the boy's 
 ardent belief and trust in him, and that that feeling 
 would make everything right. 
 
 So, after long years of sorrow and denial, joy 
 had come to him at last. And he, even he, 
 Lucien Struan, was to be a loved and loving hus-
 
 STRUAN 119 
 
 band, according to the measure of the stature of 
 a man. Life had been incomplete to him before; 
 but consummation, sufficiency, satisfaction, had 
 come at last. 
 
 When Jenny went as usual next morning to 
 the place where for so long she had taken her 
 semi-weekly singing-lesson, it was very wonderful 
 to feel the difference in her own consciousness and 
 to contrast it with the unbroken sameness of both 
 the animate and inanimate objects about her. 
 The stolid office-boy looked at her as indifferently 
 as ever. It seemed incomprehensible that no one 
 saw the marvellous change, which, though hidden 
 within her breast, seemed to Jenny as though 
 written in large characters and pinned upon her 
 sleeve. 
 
 When she passed through the little passage that 
 led to the lesson-room, her heart beat so violently 
 that she could plainly hear its thick, hard thump- 
 ing. She opened the door. There was a large 
 screen before it, cutting off the view of the room; 
 and here she stopped for a moment to get a much- 
 needed calm. As she stood so, she felt as really 
 the presence behind that screen as if her hand 
 had touched him. 
 
 The silence on both sides of the screen was in- 
 tense as she came forth into the room.
 
 STRUAN 
 
 There he was, standing erect and waiting, the 
 radiance of satisfied love glowing on his face, 
 his arms outstretched to receive her. 
 
 Without hesitation she went to them, and felt 
 herself enfolded in an infinite sweetness. 
 
 Afterward, when they were seated together on 
 the sofa, they spoke practically of the plans for 
 their marriage. He wished it to be as soon as 
 possible, he said, and asked when, at the earliest, 
 she could be ready. Would it be possible in a 
 week, he inquired, with some hesitation. 
 
 " It would be perfectly possible, as far as I'm 
 concerned, in an hour," Jenny said, " or whatever 
 time it would take us to get to a magistrate's 
 office." 
 
 Struan's brows contracted. The serene joy of 
 his face was shadowed by a sudden cloud. There 
 was nothing in the least shocking to him in this 
 girl's absolute freedom from a modesty that he 
 would have called false. Indeed, he saw this with 
 a certain sense of exultation after the opposite ex- 
 perience of his early life. What had disconcerted 
 him now was the suggestion which she had made 
 about the marriage ceremony. 
 
 " A magistrate ! " he said. " Oh, no, Jenny. 
 I do not often go into a church, but I feel that 
 I must be married to you in a different sort of
 
 STRUAN 121 
 
 place to a business office. You are so young and 
 so trustful that there seems to me to be a very 
 sacred demand on me in this marriage. I want to 
 feel, in every possible way, that I call down the 
 blessing of God upon it ; and I want to put a ring 
 on your finger as the sign of an eternal union, in 
 the name of the Father and of the Son and of 
 the Holy Ghost. Whatever that form may mean, 
 whether or not there exists the mystery of the 
 Trinity, those words are sacred to me from my 
 childhood ; and I could never consent to dispense 
 with a religious ceremony between you and me." 
 
 "You must do just as you choose," said Jenny. 
 " The love between us is the only necessity that I 
 see, and the ring put on my finger with the decla- 
 ration of that love would be the only ceremony I 
 should find essential." 
 
 Struan's brow remained clouded as he listened 
 to these words. To wipe the cloud away, she 
 kissed it. He had been so long a stranger to such 
 sweet blandishments that a smile of light came 
 over his face. 
 
 " Yes, we must be married in a church, and by 
 a religious ceremony," he said, tenderly stroking 
 her hand. " However, dear," he added, noticing 
 that Jenny's attention was wandering (she had 
 been trying to stretch her little finger and thumb
 
 122 STRUAN 
 
 around his big wrist, and was smiling to see how 
 much it lacked), " we needn't bother about details 
 now, as you say you will leave it all to me. I 
 know a little church on the seashore, within the 
 sound of the breakers ; and the clergyman is a man 
 I have long known and loved. We will go to 
 him, Jenny mine, and get him to seal the bond 
 which, by the mingling in our hearts of the pure 
 essence of love, has made us already in spirit man 
 and wife." 
 
 He said these words so seriously, fixing his eyes 
 on her with a look so intense in its gravity, that 
 Jenny was half bewildered and half frightened. 
 
 " It does not seem to make you very happy," 
 she said. " You look as solemn as if you were 
 talking about a funeral instead of a wedding." 
 
 " It's the more solemn of the two," he said. 
 " I want you to realize, Jenny, how solemn it is. 
 When you do not, I seem to myself to be taking 
 advantage of your youth. I can't forget that I am 
 twenty-three years older than you, with all the 
 knowledge of those years stored up in me, in an 
 experience which sometimes makes my heart feel 
 aged indeed. I was growing old fast enough, Jenny, 
 when you came into my life like a good fairy, and 
 made me young again, younger, in some ways, 
 than I ever felt before ! I imagine that the stir-
 
 STRUAN 123 
 
 ring of the sap at springtime through the trunk 
 and limbs of a matured and well-grown tree is a 
 stronger current than the force which sends out the 
 
 o 
 
 tender shoots and leaves on a sapling. I never 
 felt myself more vivid than I feel now. The 
 crude virility of a boy is not to be compared to it. 
 I am young enough for you, Jenny, in all but ex- 
 perience ; and it is by the possession of that that I 
 hope to save your dear feet from many snares into 
 which my own have fallen, and out of which they 
 have not been wrenched except with bitter pain." 
 
 Again he saw that Jenny's thoughts were wan- 
 dering. This time it was his hair which occu- 
 pied her. She laid hold of the somewhat unruly 
 locks that fell about his forehead, and smoothed 
 them into place. Then she ventured to touch the 
 ends of his mustache, and to give them an up- 
 ward twist away from the curved lines of the 
 mouth. 
 
 " I wish I didn't feel a little bit afraid of you," 
 she said. " I am trying my best to make myself 
 not feel so, but you take everything so seriously." 
 
 The sternness of his lips relaxed into a radiant 
 smile, showing his white teeth and softening all 
 his features. With an impetuous movement, he 
 caught her in his arms, and, pressing her head 
 down against his breast, drew back a little and 
 looked at her.
 
 i2 4 STRUAN 
 
 " Now are you frightened ? " he said, kissing 
 her; " and now and now and noiu ? " 
 
 An ecstasy of delight came to her with these 
 kisses, so blended as they were of playfulness and 
 fervor. Low little ripples of laughter broke from 
 her girlish lips, while her young eyes mocked and 
 challenged him. He pressed her to him till she 
 writhed with pain and laughter. His kisses lin- 
 gered on her lips ever longer and longer. His 
 face grew grave again, and under the stern influ- 
 ence of those dominating eyes her face also grew 
 graver. The few words of endearment that they 
 uttered were spoken in whispers lower than their 
 breathing. 
 
 At last, when stillness had fallen between them, 
 and she rested quiet, with her arms about his 
 neck, he looked deep into her eyes, as if his spirit 
 was trying to touch her spirit as his body was 
 touching her body. 
 
 Jenny met his look a little wonderingly. 
 
 " What are you thinking of? " she said. 
 
 " Tell me first your thoughts. What were you 
 thinking of in that long silence ? " 
 
 " About my wedding-dress," she answered 
 simply. " Of course, it will have to be a travel- 
 ling costume, but I was thinking whether it 
 would look best made with a waist or a jacket."
 
 STRUAN 125 
 
 He loosed his arms about her, and put her 
 quietly from him. She could not see his face. 
 
 " Now you must tell me your thought," said 
 Jenny, as he stood up. 
 
 " Not now, dear. Don't ask me. Often my 
 thoughts are too solemn to be spoken out. I wish 
 I could help you about your dress ; but I'm sure 
 it will be all right, whatever you decide. Every- 
 thing you wear looks pretty." 
 
 Jenny's face grew radiant. 
 
 " O, you dear ! " she said, standing up and 
 giving his elbows a shake, while she looked up in 
 his face with a more ardent expression of delight 
 than any words that he had ever spoken to her 
 had called up. 
 
 A week later they were married in the little 
 church by the sea. Jenny had decided on the 
 waist, and in it her figure was as smooth and 
 trim as that of a real Jenny Wren. She looked 
 girlishly, beamingly happy. 
 
 Struan undoubtedly looked too old for her that 
 day, though at times his face was lighted with a 
 reflection of her young joy. In the main, how- 
 ever, it was serious ; and more than once he sighed.
 
 VIII 
 
 STRUAN and Jenny had been married a 
 year. Jenny, looking back upon it, ac- 
 knowledged with her characteristic honesty 
 that it had been a period giving evidence of as 
 affectionate and steadfast a devotion as ever man 
 gave woman. Not once, in spite of the fact that 
 Struan lived in an atmosphere of feminine adora- 
 tion, had he given cause for one twinge of doubt 
 or jealousy. His care of her, his sensitive pro- 
 tectingness, were almost tiresomely scrupulous ; 
 for she was a wild thing, and even the restraints 
 of love were irksome to her at times. 
 
 They had gone to housekeeping immediately 
 after their return from their wedding journey, in 
 a pretty house, with garden and grounds, in one of 
 the suburbs of New York. Struan had always 
 avoided society : first, because he did not like it ; 
 and, secondly, because he had no time for it. He 
 was a very hard-worked man, and the new ex- 
 perience of a pretty rural home where a loving 
 wife awaited his coming was to him a blissful 
 refuge after a hard day's work ; and Jenny made 
 him a good housekeeper and a loving wife. 
 126
 
 STRUAN 127 
 
 She lived, in this new existence, in a degree of 
 comfort and ease such as she had never known 
 before. There was no occasion for luxury or 
 splendor; but her husband constantly gave her 
 charming presents, which delighted her. 
 
 Struan, who had a host of friends, introduced 
 some of these to Jenny ; but, as a rule, she found 
 them dull. Of course, he had a large acquaintance 
 among theatrical people ; and it was this set whose 
 society Jenny would have liked. But, except in 
 few cases, Struan did not desire this society for 
 her ; and these exceptions that he made were 
 chosen for the very qualities which, to Jenny, 
 detracted from their desirability. She thought 
 them, both men and women, too grave and 
 thoughtful or too concentrated in their work to 
 be agreeable. Her old taste for light opera re- 
 vived, and Struan, to gratify her, wearied him- 
 self by taking her often ; but, when she wanted 
 him to go with her behind the scenes and to intro- 
 duce her to the various singers and dancers, 
 he declined, always kindly, but decidedly. Then 
 Jenny would pout, and he would sigh and look 
 troubled ; and then they would kiss and make 
 friends, and declare that all was right again. And 
 so it would be, until the next disagreement in 
 taste or inclination between them ; and, as time 
 went on, these came more frequently.
 
 128 STRUAN 
 
 Sometimes he reproached himself with forgetting 
 how young she was and how she must need con- 
 genial companionship ; and under this impulse he 
 encouraged her to make friends with the neigh- 
 bors, a class of people whom he personally 
 found distasteful. Still, if Jenny liked them, and 
 if she found some amusement in them during the 
 long hours in which he was obliged to leave 
 her alone, he forced himself to put up with their 
 narrow point of view and, in many cases, com- 
 monness, and tried to persuade himself that it was 
 the natural bond of youth which made them ac- 
 ceptable to Jenny. He saw no serious ground of 
 objection to them ; and, if they gave pleasure to 
 Jenny, he resolved to make the best of them. In 
 reality, he saw but little of them ; for they, one and 
 all, stood rather in awe of him, and preferred to 
 make their visits to Jenny during his absence in 
 the city. 
 
 Two pleasures and resources Jenny had which 
 gave her great satisfaction. One was her music, 
 which she practised assiduously, keeping up regu- 
 larly her lessons with Struan. The other was 
 dress. She now had the money to indulge her 
 taste for pretty clothes ; and she spent a great deal 
 of her time at the dressmaker's, being fitted and 
 deciding on costumes. She had been too long
 
 STRUAN 129 
 
 accustomed to consider the value of money to be 
 wasteful now ; but she allowed herself a good deal 
 of indulgence in the matter of dress, expending 
 much ingenuity in satisfying her taste with as little 
 outlay as possible. This took her to the city 
 shops a good deal, and there she found unlimited 
 amusement. Her neighbors copied her costumes, 
 and took her for their model of fashion and good 
 taste. Struan also noticed and admired her new 
 clothes, though she felt at times a certain quali- 
 fiedness in his praise. She did not especially 
 heed this, however, as she considered his taste 
 severe. She was much pleased to see the peo- 
 ple on the street men, women, or children, 
 it mattered little to her looking at her with 
 pleasure in her charming figure, fresh young 
 face, and pretty clothes. She was quite aware 
 that without the third the two first might have 
 gone unnoticed. 
 
 Besides these two sources of interest, Struan 
 took her often to the opera and theatre. Some- 
 times they went off for a week's jaunt somewhere, 
 for a little change of scene. 
 
 Despite the new and unquestionable comfort of 
 having for his wife a loving and broad-minded 
 woman, Struan was at times sadder than he had 
 ever been in his life. He scarcely owned the
 
 130 STRUAN 
 
 fact to himself, and he never made any effort to 
 account for it. He was conscious, for one thing, 
 that he missed his son ; but he did not directly 
 attribute this lack to his marriage with Jenny, 
 though, but for that marriage, the intercourse be- 
 tween Leonard and himself would certainly have 
 ^een freer. He had always looked forward to 
 having Len with him, when he left school. That 
 time was over now, for Len had written that he 
 did not want to give up years of his life to study- 
 ing a profession, but desired to put into effect now 
 the desire which he had always had, to become 
 an artist, and he wished to remain in Paris to 
 study. 
 
 This decision, which would once have been a 
 blow to Struan, because it involved a longer sepa- 
 ration from his son, came now in the light of a 
 relief. Leonard had taken the marriage to Jenny 
 admirably. The fact that it was the choice and 
 decision of his father was enough for him. He 
 had written to Struan a splendid letter, taking the 
 attitude of man to man rather than that of son to 
 father, and revealing, in spite of delicate loyalty 
 to his mother's memory, a comprehension of the 
 pain and mistakenness of that first marriage which 
 stirred Struan to the profoundest depths of his 
 heart. He did not show this letter to Jenny. It
 
 STRUAN 131 
 
 was sacred between his son and himself; and he 
 felt, somehow, that it would not get its true rec- 
 ognition from her. Leonard had written a letter 
 to Jenny, also, a perfect letter, so his father 
 thought ; but there had been a fineness, a subtlety, 
 in it which had puzzled Jenny a good deal, and 
 made her say quite helplessly : 
 
 " Do I have to answer it ? " 
 
 " Not necessarily," Struan had said. " I'll send 
 him a message of thanks for it, if you would pre- 
 fer that." 
 
 Jenny thought that she would prefer it, de- 
 cidedly. 
 
 And Struan, in spite of himself, felt glad that 
 Jenny decided not to write. The few letters 
 which he had received from her, during his rare 
 absences since their marriage, revealed to him the 
 rather meagre lines of Jenny's education ; and he 
 felt that it would be better for Leonard to see her 
 before he heard from her, when the charm of her 
 grace and beauty would do its part in the im- 
 pression. 
 
 And yet, when he thought of Leonard and 
 Jenny face to face, there was something in 
 the idea that grated on him. She was certainly 
 pretty, undeniably so ; but Leonard was difficult. 
 Young men were apt to be so. Would he not
 
 132 STRUAN 
 
 consider Jenny a little overdressed, a little self- 
 assertive, a little noisy, even, perhaps, a little 
 
 He would not say the word common. It 're- 
 mained unuttered even in his mind, but the ghost 
 of it floated there. 
 
 Leonard had been the darling of Struan's heart. 
 He had had the boy a great deal with him before 
 he had gone off to school, and even then their de- 
 lightful companionship had been renewed at every 
 vacation ; and they had taken charming trips to- 
 gether, and had had talks which Struan remem- 
 bered as among the most inspiring of his life. 
 The lad's nature was almost a reproduction of his 
 father's, sensitive, intense, emotional. He had 
 also the same love for the beautiful and admira- 
 tion for the good. His respect and affection for 
 his father was almost a religion. Whether life 
 would prove him to be possessed of his father's 
 indomitableness of purpose was yet to be seen. 
 He was ardent, impulsive, pleasure-loving, and im- 
 patient of restraint. His father had talked to him 
 as frankly about life and its temptations as if he 
 had been of his own age, so that from a child he 
 had had none of the morbid speculations and im- 
 aginings which so often sully the minds of the 
 young. In fact, Struan had had a greater sense 
 of companionship with Leonard than with any
 
 STRUAN 
 
 other creature ; and now, after a year of marriage 
 with Jenny, he felt the same. 
 
 And Jenny herself? At first the supreme joy 
 and glory of being Struan's wife were sufficient for 
 her, and it was without effort that she had told 
 him that she was perfectly happy. Her fiery love 
 for him, which had in it all the romance of girl- 
 hood and all the passion of womanhood combined, 
 made it seem enough, for one year, simply to 
 exist for this love. That year had been, as she 
 said, perfectly happy. 
 
 It was a necessity to Struan to know this, the 
 more so since, had Jenny been guilty of any such 
 feminine apprehensions as to inquire into his state 
 of mind, he would have been compelled to own to 
 himself, whether he did to her or not, that he 
 could not, with truth, say the same. But Jenny 
 never asked troublesome questions. She took his 
 happiness for granted, seeing that he had what 
 represented to her all its essential conditions. In- 
 deed, so free from analysis, introspection, vague 
 misgivings, and other commonly conceded femi- 
 nine attributes was Jenny that the part of his 
 nature with which she was able to sympathize 
 least was what might be called the womanly in 
 him. She had none of the little finenesses of feel- 
 ing which gave delicacy to his strength. There
 
 134 STRUAN 
 
 were a thousand tender places in his consciousness 
 which she trod on unconsciously, a thousand little 
 wants in his heart which she could not possibly 
 fill, because she was unaware of their existence. 
 
 Besides this lack in Jenny, there were others 
 which, consciously or unconsciously, Struan was 
 oppressed by. One was the need of his mind for 
 intellect : another was the need of his soul for 
 religion. Jenny had plenty of shrewdness and 
 common sense ; but she was as unintellectual as 
 a pretty, sturdy pony. So also she had her own 
 sense of right and duty, but she was as unreligious 
 as a little brown wren. Struan was a bookish 
 man, and kept abreast of the movements of litera- 
 ture and science with earnestness and ardor. He 
 was also essentially a spiritual man ; and, though 
 he felt no need of church-going and religious ob- 
 servances, there was no necessity which was so 
 strong in him as the possession of a belief, and 
 the consciousness, not only of the existence, but 
 of the fatherhood of God, and the certainty, 
 without which his present life would have been 
 unreal, of a future life, where intellect should 
 be expanded and love enlarged beyond present 
 imagining. 
 
 He was many-sided, and what he craved was 
 sympathy in all. A marriage which failed to
 
 STRUAN 135 
 
 satisfy any of the three necessities of his nature 
 soul, mind, and body would necessarily possess 
 for him a bitter incompleteness. His first mar- 
 riage had had none of the three essential elements. 
 His second marriage had but one. So now, at 
 the end of this year, his heart was almost as 
 hungry as ever ; and, in his true and inner self, he 
 was as utterly alone. 
 
 All this he knew, though he kept the con- 
 sciousness of it veiled even in his own mind. 
 He worked harder and harder, put out feelers of 
 sympathy in every direction, befriended at every 
 turn the poor and the lonely, delved passionately 
 at his beloved art, to the end that it might touch 
 more and more widely the manifold issues of life, 
 was every day gentler and kinder to Jenny. 
 
 He possessed, however, but one pure and un- 
 sullied source of refreshment j and that was in 
 his son. 
 
 Leonard's first year of study in Paris was now 
 over, and he was coming home for a visit. So 
 Struan was to have his boy with him for a while 
 before he should settle down to his career in life. 
 It would have been a keen and perfect pleasure 
 for Struan to look forward to except for Jenny. 
 
 One sorrow Struan was spared. Nothing had 
 ever caused him to suspect that there was a secret
 
 136 STRUAN 
 
 consciousness in Jenny's bosom also, through 
 which she had begun to wonder whether she had 
 not made a mistake in this marriage. She had 
 got used to the idea of being Lucien Struan's wife, 
 and the magic had faded from it. He gave her 
 all his spare time, and spent all his unoccupied 
 evenings at home ; but, after the first few months 
 of ardent effort to raise her mind to the level of 
 his interests, he had abandoned the task, and now 
 he found it often very difficult to make talk with 
 Jenny. He was conscious, too, of an effort on 
 her side ; and, when she sometimes tried to in- 
 terest herself in the subjects that were so all- 
 important to him, he could see that it was as great 
 a mental strain as it was to him to enter into her 
 interests. 
 
 He therefore not only sanctioned, but encour- 
 aged, her to make friends with the neighbors ; for, 
 with no mental interests, he could imagine how 
 her long days, when he was in the city, must 
 weary her. There was a certain Mrs. Wallis 
 whom Jenny talked of a great deal, and with 
 whom she seemed to spend much of her time. 
 She got such evident pleasure from this intercourse 
 that Struan was disposed to look most kindly 
 upon it, and wished to make Mrs. Wallis's ac- 
 quaintance.
 
 STRUAN 137 
 
 " Why don't you ask her to come with her hus- 
 band to dinner some day ? " said Struan. He 
 knew nothing whatever of this couple ; but he 
 never cared who people were, so long as they 
 were what he liked. Still, he wanted to see them 
 on this latter ground. 
 
 " Oh, you wouldn't like them. They are not 
 your sort," Jenny answered, in an ofF-hand way. 
 
 " But, Jenny, I like to believe that your sort 
 and my sort are the same." 
 
 " Of course," said Jenny, laughing ; " but we 
 like to believe a great deal that we don't believe." 
 
 It was her custom to be blunt and honest, and 
 he admired it in her; but, somehow, her candor 
 smote upon him now. It was the first acknowl- 
 edgment between them of the least disappoint- 
 ment in their intercourse ; and, as such, it gave 
 Struan pain. 
 
 He saw no sign of any such feeling in Jenny, 
 however ; and so he said nothing. Later, though, 
 he made a point of meeting the Wallises ; and 
 Jenny was obliged to take him to call. 
 
 The visit was made in the evening after dinner; 
 and, as Jenny had notified her friend that they 
 were coming, they found Mr. and Mrs. Wallis 
 waiting to receive them. 
 
 Mr. Wallis proved to be a commonplace
 
 138 STRUAN 
 
 business man, inoffensively vulgar, but with the 
 saving grace of unpretentiousness. 
 
 Mrs. Wallis was a shock. Feeling very much 
 in awe of Struan, as she had never met so distin- 
 guished a man before, and had long known him as 
 a distant star in the great world's horizon, Mrs. 
 Wallis had thought it proper to do honor to the 
 occasion by making a grand toilet. While she 
 felt inwardly flattered and fluttered at receiving a 
 visit from the great Struan, she was one of that 
 large class of vulgar people who, acting according 
 to the motto, " I think myself as good as any- 
 body," covered her inherent though unacknowl- 
 edged inferiority under a manner of self-assertive 
 confidence. 
 
 When Struan was introduced, and shook hands 
 in his cordial way, Mrs. Wallis responded : 
 
 " I'm reel glad to see you. I've been reel 
 anxious to meet you. Let me make you 'quainted 
 with my husband." 
 
 The kindness of Struan's outward manner did 
 not change, but the heart within him was sick. 
 Was this Jenny's chosen friend, the spirit she 
 had found congenial, this overdressed woman, 
 with her low-cut gown and befrizzled hair, reek- 
 ing with the scent of heavy extracts, and gasping 
 out her words with a fluttered manner that seemed
 
 STRUAN 139 
 
 to cast an atmosphere of excitement over the 
 entire room ? 
 
 This excitement manifested itself in Mr. Wallis 
 by a wild throwing about of his watch-chain, half 
 a yard of which, adorned with heavy seals and 
 lockets, swung from side to side of his rotund 
 body, and which he ceaselessly jiggled and tossed, 
 while he stood wordless in the shadow of his 
 wife's magnificence. 
 
 And she did cast a shadow, huge and distinct ; 
 for a bunch of electric lights behind her, swelling 
 bulbously out of many-hued shades made in the 
 shape of flowers, lighted glaringly this hideous 
 room which exemplified the ornateness of its mis- 
 tress's taste as much as did her costume. 
 
 Jenny herself seemed subdued in this presence, 
 and seemed to have nothing to say ; but, in the 
 silence of her companions, Mrs. Wallis saw her 
 opportunity. 
 
 " I've been telling Jenny," she rattled on (this 
 familiarity gave Struan another shock), " that seem- 
 like we ought to know one another, you and me 
 and Syd, when she and me were such chums. 
 We have certainly enjoyed having some congenial 
 people for neighbors. The society here is dread- 
 fully mixed, and we only visit a few families. 
 Now, if you and Syd just like each other as well 
 as Jenny and me, it'll be great."
 
 STRUAN 
 
 Surely, even she must have had some sense of 
 incongruity as she looked from one man to the 
 other, where Struan sat a perfect exemplification 
 of the repose of power, while opposite him sat Mr. 
 Wallis, who, at this direct calling attention to 
 him, began once more to toss his watch-chain 
 recklessly, and, in lieu of speech, smiled in an 
 aimless way. 
 
 But Mrs. Wallis's motto was, u Make much 
 of yourself, if you'd have others make much of 
 you " ; and she fortified herself with the inward 
 reflection that she didn't see why her husband 
 wasn't as good as any other woman's. And so, 
 indeed, she didn't. 
 
 Struan made some politely evasive answer, and, 
 in disgust of this woman, opened a conversation 
 with her husband. He was the most tolerant of 
 men, Struan ; and there was no form of vul- 
 garity even which he could not look upon with 
 lenience. It was not Mrs. Wallis's vulgarity 
 now that disturbed him. It was the fact that the 
 woman whom he had chosen for his wife had 
 chosen this woman for her friend. 
 
 For Struan, in his heart, had never given a mo- 
 ment's harboring to the suggestion that, in the 
 matter of his marriage, he had been the chosen 
 rather than the chooser. He would never lay the
 
 STRUAN 141 
 
 blame for this marriage on any one but himself, 
 if blame there should be. 
 
 Suppose Jenny had made the advances, and run 
 after him. He had his wits about him, his sense 
 of right, his long experience of life. He might 
 have withdrawn at the proper point. That he 
 did not do so must, whatever came, throw the 
 responsibility of the marriage where it rightly be- 
 longed, on him. 
 
 He sat now making talk with Mr. Wallis, and 
 adroitly lowering himself to the man's level. They 
 had got on politics ; and here Struan had ideas of 
 his own, ideas colored with his own passionate 
 nature and indomitable optimism. He therefore 
 found an easy ground for discussion with a man 
 who had but one single notion as to the whole 
 situation, that everything was going to the dogs 
 double-quick. 
 
 Even to the men who understood him, Struan's 
 ideas were apt to seem Utopian ; but he was ar- 
 dently loved by his friends, and they loved his 
 theories for his sake. To this man, however, 
 equally devoid of sympathy and of imagination, 
 he was evidently so great a puzzle that, for all 
 Struan's easy and amiable mariner, the talk grew 
 decidedly strained. 
 
 So Mrs. Wallis, who had been laughing and
 
 H2 STRUAN 
 
 talking with a noisy familiarity to Jenny, saw now 
 her chance to attract Struan's attention to herself. 
 She had not got up all this gorgeousness for noth- 
 ing. 
 
 " Oh, do you two stop your everlasting poli- 
 tics ! " she said coyly. " We are lots more in- 
 teresting, ain't we, Jenny ? I wish there was no 
 such thing as politics in the world. I don't see 
 the use of it, anyway. I'm coming to talk to Mr. 
 Struan, and let Syd flirt with Jenny for a while. 
 I can see he's just dying to, but he's that bash- 
 ful Go on, Syd," she said, giving him a little 
 push, at which, with rather a frightened air, he 
 went over to the seat next Jenny, while his wife 
 took his place by Struan. 
 
 " It's the truth," she said in a confidential 
 whisper, putting up her heavily scented fan of 
 white feathers and speaking behind it. " He's the 
 bashfullest man you ever saw, but he think's your 
 wife's the prettiest woman out. And he's not far 
 wrong. I'm as crazy 'bout her as he is. It ain't 
 only that she's so pretty. Lots o' people are 
 pretty. But I care a heap more for style ; and, 
 my ! ain't she stylish ? Seems like, do your best 
 and pay your most, other folks can't get to look 
 like Jenny. I tell her so to her face." 
 
 What could Struan say ? His gentle heart was
 
 STRUAN H3 
 
 aching for her, the poor little butterfly that he 
 had tried to turn into a Psyche. He seemed to 
 see clearly at last that all she wanted was a day's 
 basking in the sunshine of life, that she was the 
 symbol of a soul, but not a soul. 
 
 If these were the people, if this was the com- 
 panionship, in which she found pleasure, how he 
 must weary her with his distant dreams of what 
 was perhaps the unattainable, and his difficult 
 strivings to get out of the present and into some 
 greater and better future, to gain which meant 
 ceaseless self-dedication, unremitting toil ! Long 
 ago he had proved that she could not take part in 
 his ambitions and ideals. She had once said to 
 him that, when he had gone so far in his career as 
 to have a big name and a good income, she didn't 
 see what more he wanted, and that it seemed to 
 her foolish to work so hard. He had said nothing 
 in reply ; but that day had been one bitter era in 
 his experience, and this was another. 
 
 As they were walking homeward after their 
 visit to the Wallises, Jenny said abruptly : 
 
 " I knew y u wouldn't like them. I never 
 wanted to take you, so you can't blame me." 
 
 " Blame you ! How could I ? " he said kindly. 
 " There is no blame in the matter." 
 
 " I told you they were not your sort," she said, 
 a certain shade of resentment in her tones.
 
 144 STRUAN 
 
 " They are not," he said, still in a very gentle 
 tone. " Do you call them your sort, Jenny ? " 
 
 He felt the hand upon his arm stiffen slightly, 
 as if the whole figure grew more tense. 
 
 " Yes ! " she said, half-defiantly. " I do. 
 What's the use of pretending ? I'm not clever, 
 and I never will be. I don't care anything about 
 books and theories and ideas. I like to enjoy 
 myself with people that don't look down upon 
 me, and that's the simple truth." 
 
 " Look down upon you, Jenny ! " he said in a 
 hurt tone. " My child, what are you thinking 
 of?" 
 
 " Not you," she said in hasty amends. " I 
 don't mean you. You are lovely to me always ; 
 but, whether you admit it or not, the people that 
 you take pleasure in, the friends that you have 
 tried and tried in vain to make my friends, you 
 must know that they look down on me, that they 
 only tolerate me for your sake." 
 
 " Not at all," said Struan, stoutly, smothering 
 a little inward monition that contradicted his 
 spoken words. " Many of my friends have liked 
 and admired you for yourself alone." 
 
 " Oh, they think me pretty, I dare say, or they 
 admire my voice or consider me jolly and amus- 
 ing. But what has thinking me pretty got to do
 
 STRUAN i45 
 
 with really liking me ? And what do I care 
 about my voice, when you won't let me sing ? " 
 
 " But I do let you sing," he began. 
 
 " Oh, at home or in the houses of your friends ! 
 But I don't care for that. You won't let me go 
 on the stage." 
 
 Struan winced inwardly, but his voice was with- 
 out any hint of it as he answered : 
 
 " And do you still cling to that dream ? Would 
 you like to be an opera-bouffe singer ? " 
 
 " Yes, I would," said Jenny, doggedly. " It 
 would be some excitement, some pleasure, and 
 make me of some importance." 
 
 " It's not that I wouldn't let you, Jenny. You 
 know my views about marriage, that a man has 
 no more right to hinder his wife in an earnest 
 
 O 
 
 career than she has to hinder him. I have never 
 forbidden you to do this thing ; but I do object to 
 it and wish you not to do it, not because I exert 
 any husband's authority over you, but because I 
 give you the benefit of an experience that began 
 before you were born." 
 
 This thought reminded him of Jenny's youth, 
 and his heart grew gentler still toward her. 
 
 " Sometimes," he said, laying his hand tenderly 
 over hers as they walked along, " I wonder if I am 
 not too old for you, Jenny. Sometimes I fear you 
 made a mistake."
 
 146 STRUAN 
 
 " I have never attached any importance to 
 that," said Jenny ; " and, if I don't think you too 
 old for me, it's no one else's business. It isn't 
 that. That's not the trouble at all. But there's 
 something, else why did I feel this evening, when 
 I saw the difference between you and the Wallises, 
 that I was more like them than like you ? " 
 
 " Did you feel that ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes, I did," she said stoutly ; " and it is the 
 truth. I am better educated than Ida Wallis, 
 because I was ambitious from childhood to be a 
 singer ; and I worked for that purpose, and studied 
 hard. But this made me in that point above my 
 family and friends, though I am not so in other 
 things. If you think the Wallises common, as I 
 know you do, I wonder what you'd think of the 
 people I was raised among and am related to." 
 
 " What have I to do with that ? I care noth- 
 ing whatever about it. I married you, and not 
 the relations you have outgrown and left behind 
 you. But tell me this about the Wallises : don't 
 you think them common ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do. I see that they are, because, liv- 
 ing with you, I have got your point of view. In 
 that light, I am common, too." 
 
 Struan started. His grasp upon her hand tight- 
 ened sternly.
 
 STRUAN 147 
 
 " Jenny," he said, " don't turn this subject into 
 ridicule. It is a serious thing." 
 
 " I know it. I am speaking seriously ; and, 
 seriously, I tell you that we had better understand 
 each other. I'm not up to you in mind, in breed- 
 ing, in association. I feel it all the time. Even 
 when I am alone with you, I feel it ; for I can see 
 you have to go out of your own thoughts and in- 
 terests when you talk to me, and I can see the 
 effort it costs you. And it is such an effort to me 
 to climb up to your interests that being more 
 honest than you, as I truly think I don't make 
 the effort. When you come to think of it, we 
 have very little common ground." 
 
 This brutal fact, so evident to his outward 
 eyes, so sedulously guarded from his inward vision, 
 brought thus home to him, in Jenny's out- 
 spoken way, was a blow the weight of which she 
 little dreamed. 
 
 He did not speak in answer; but as they walked 
 along, and now let themselves in at their own 
 front door, she had a certain consciousness of his 
 feeling that made her say in a loving sort of way : 
 
 " Don't be sorry that you married me, Struan. 
 It was more my fault than yours. You are not 
 sorry, are you ? " 
 
 " If you are unhappy, I am."
 
 STRUAN 
 
 44 I am not exactly unhappy," she said, kneeling 
 in a wicker rocking-chair that stood in the hall, 
 and leaning against the top of it as she faced and 
 looked at him, rocking gently all the time ; " but 
 you are such a big, broad-minded man that I 
 should think you would understand how I feel in 
 this perfect self-effacement." 
 
 44 Self-effacement ! Who ever wanted you to 
 efface yourself? The idea is hateful to me. 
 What do you mean ? " 
 
 44 I know you don't want it ; but how can it 
 be otherwise ? You are an intellectual and impor- 
 tant man, with ideas far greater than any I am 
 capable of. Some women could find a career in 
 sharing and helping you in these. I can't. It 
 isn't in me. Simply, they are uninteresting to me. 
 That's all there is about it. As long as you dis- 
 approve of my making myself a career in the 
 only way that I can, there is nothing for me to do 
 but reflect you." 
 
 44 What ! Reflect me ? Do you suppose I 
 married you to reflect me, or could ever so de- 
 grade my idea of wifehood ? " 
 
 44 Whatever you married me for, it amounts 
 pretty much to that. Look around at this house. 
 Contrast it with the Wallises'." 
 
 44 Well," said Struan, misunderstanding her, 
 "you can't hesitate as to which is best."
 
 STRUAN H9 
 
 " This, of course ! That's not the point. 
 The Wallises' house is the ideal that I have had 
 before me till I married you. This house does 
 not, in the least, express me. So much the better, 
 perhaps. But all I did in making this home was 
 to find out your wishes and execute them. How 
 much do I express myself in anything ? I am 
 not saying it in reproach. Circumstances may be 
 at fault, but you have not been. No, indeed, 
 you've been as good as gold to me, Struan ; but 
 don't you see, by this time, how little we are 
 alike ? " 
 
 She got out of her chair, left it rocking to and 
 fro, and went and stood beside him, taking both 
 his hands and looking up into his face. 
 
 " My poor darling child ! " he said, stooping to 
 kiss her forehead. " It will be hard for me to for- 
 give myself if I make you regret your marriage 
 to an old man more than twice your age." 
 
 " An old man ! " she sr laughing. "That is 
 absurd, applied to you. 1 don't regret my mar- 
 riage, but I tell you frankly there is something 
 wrong. I think I am of that inferior clay that 
 likes to associate with its inferiors. I find pleas- 
 ure in the Wallises because I am sort of a queen 
 to them. With them and their friends I am 
 always the most important figure in any gathering.
 
 150 STRUAN 
 
 Frankly, I like it. Can't you understand how 
 wearisome it gets to be always struggling up to 
 vour companions, and feeling that you do not 
 reach their level, try all you can ? " 
 
 There was something so honest in her, so like 
 herself, with her candid, unpretending nature, that 
 it made a strong appeal to Struan. He took her 
 in his arms, and kissed her tenderly, and Jenny 
 returned his kiss ; but there seemed a whole 
 world's distance between them, compared to that 
 time a year ago when, in the first ardor of their 
 passion for each other, it had seemed that nothing 
 else was needed to make their love complete.
 
 IX 
 
 STRUAN did not know it, but the motive at 
 the root of Jenny's attitude in this conver- 
 sation was her sense of uneasiness at the 
 thought of Leonard's coming. Struan had shown 
 her two or three of the boy's ardent letters ; and, 
 with her usual shrewdness and honesty with her- 
 self, she saw that he had idealized her enor- 
 mously, according to his imagination of what the 
 woman who had won his father's love should be. 
 She shrank instinctively from being measured by 
 such a standard. She had seen by a hundred sig- 
 nificant signs that Struan himself had idealized her 
 in a most uncomfortable way, and in her prosaic 
 heart she was very tired of straining up to a stand- 
 ard which she could not reach and didn't really 
 care to reach. 
 
 Indeed, there was but one idea that really in- 
 spired or stimulated Jenny, that of making a 
 career for herself in light opera. It was the only 
 thing she really wanted ; and, after the disappoint- 
 ment in her marriage, fully acknowledged to 
 herself, she now recognized, in the possibility 
 of this career, the fulfilment of her most ardent 
 dream. She loved Struan, of course. She hadn't
 
 STRUAN 
 
 stopped loving him ; but, really, it was folly for her 
 to shut her eyes to the fact that they were not 
 suited to each other. 
 
 She worked at her music harder than ever ; and 
 Struan, who had no real doubt in his heart that 
 her wish to please him was the paramount motive 
 with her, encouraged and praised her in a way that 
 made her eyes sparkle with what he supposed to 
 be gratified love. In reality, it was the stimulus 
 which his words gave to a hope which she had 
 never resigned, and was nursing now with a greater 
 fervor than ever before. 
 
 The time had come when Struan recognized the 
 fact that as far as he personally was concerned his 
 second venture in love had failed. He did not, 
 however, recognize it as a failure as it affected 
 Jenny. But Jenny knew that it had failed for 
 her, too ; and, being shrewder than he, she sus- 
 pected enough, as to his feelings, to cause her to 
 watch him with close attention. 
 
 With her usual acumen, she had hit upon an 
 important factor in the failure of this marriage J 
 and that was the difference in their ages. He was 
 forty-three ; and to her, at twenty, this seemed 
 old. He had seen, felt, and tasted deep of life. 
 He had travelled over the world, seen society in 
 many countries, tasted of adventure, danger, and
 
 STRUAN 153 
 
 afterward of success. Now he had settled down 
 to the calm of maturity, but he had had the de- 
 lightful fever of youth before doing so. This she 
 had never had, and her thirst for it was keen. 
 She had been almost twenty before she had shaken 
 herself free from the trammels of her birth and 
 rearing ; and from that point she had stepped at 
 once into her present state of life, which seemed 
 to her now more or less a bondage. 
 
 In the early months of her marriage she had 
 made an effort to repress the ebullitions of youth 
 and its wilful follies, which occasionally rose up 
 in her ; but lately, with a purpose, she had given 
 these free vent, watching Struan carefully to see 
 if they jarred. Undoubtedly, they did, although 
 he made no outward sign. 
 
 There was one point on which, as Jenny knew, 
 they were ardently agreed. Neither of them be- 
 lieved in a life which demanded self-suppression, 
 in the sense of denying the natural and healthy 
 human instincts ; and she began to see her way 
 clear to the making of a good argument, if she 
 should ever decide to give him her reasons for 
 thinking their marriage a failure. 
 
 Another point on which they felt differently 
 was that of parenthood. Struan was disappointed 
 that there was no child born to them ; while 
 Jenny, for her part, openly rejoiced.
 
 WHEN Leonard had once fixed the day 
 for his return, and written the date 
 on which he was to sail, a fit of 
 impatience, very characteristic of him, so took 
 him in possession that, in his eagerness to see his 
 beloved father, he hurried up his preparations so 
 as to sail by a steamer coming three days earlier. 
 The thought of taking his father by surprise so 
 delighted him that he gave no warning of his 
 being near ; but one morning, when Struan was 
 busy with his correspondence at the desk in his 
 office, he heard the swing-door slam to very sud- 
 denly, and around the screen, all unannounced, 
 came Leonard, both his arms outstretched, and 
 the cry of " Father ! " on his lips. 
 
 Struan sprang to his feet at sound of that famil- 
 iar voice, his face irradiated with love and joy. 
 In a moment they were locked in a close embrace ; 
 and then, in foreign fashion which was nature 
 itself to their loving hearts, they kissed each other. 
 Then they drew apart, and looked in one an- 
 other's eyes.
 
 STRUAN 155 
 
 u My blessed father," said the boy, his dark 
 eyes filling with tears, " what a joy it is to look at 
 you again, and see your dear face just the same, 
 only better and finer than I remembered it ! " 
 
 " And to think that your father has to look up 
 to you, Len ! How wonderful it seems ! My 
 great, magnificent boy ! God bless you ! " 
 
 He stood with his hands on his son's shoulders, 
 his face glowing with love. They were both pow- 
 erful men, with vigor in every limb, ardor in 
 every lineament. The affectionate comradeship 
 which their looks and tones indicated gave an im- 
 pression of equality that made them seem more 
 like brothers than father and son. The difference 
 in age, which he was so constantly reminded of 
 with Jenny, he scarcely thought of with Len. 
 There was a spiritual equality between the father 
 and son which made this fact an insignificant 
 accident ; but, in the absence of that spiritual 
 element, the point of age had a tremendous 
 meaning. 
 
 As they sat down now together, the man and 
 youth, on the old leather lounge where Struan and 
 Jenny had once sat, there was a zest in the hearts 
 and faces of both that made the hour a rare and 
 precious one to them. 
 
 Leonard, in answer to his father's eager ques-
 
 156 STRUAN 
 
 tionings, gave a hurried account of himself and 
 the reasons that had led to his sudden and unex- 
 pected arrival. 
 
 This done, a slight look of embarrassment 
 crossed his face ; and, with a certain shyness, he 
 said laughingly : 
 
 " I am eager to see my new mother. I am 
 prepared to love her instantly, and I am going to 
 call her i mamma ' from the first." 
 
 Struan felt his heart contract. So strong an in- 
 ward throb could not fail to make its mark upon 
 the countenance. It took the form of a sudden 
 shadow that passed over his face, and left it pale. 
 
 " You will find her too young for that," he said 
 with a visible effort at ease. " She is not much 
 more than your own age, too young, I some- 
 times fear, for an old fellow like me, though she 
 is too sweet to acknowledge it. You will make a 
 friend of her, I know, Leonard, for my sake." 
 
 " Indeed, I will, sir, if I can," said Leonard, his 
 face growing suddenly crimson from some inward 
 and unexpressed emotion. He had divined that 
 his father had some fear that he might not be 
 likely to become the friend of his new mother, for 
 her own sake. A great wave of compassion, on 
 some unknown and unquestioned ground, rose 
 over him.
 
 STRUAN 157 
 
 " Father," he said gently, " I have wanted often 
 to say something to you. Let me say it now. As 
 I have grown from a boy to a man, I have come 
 to understand, in part at least, the extreme trials 
 and difficulties of your life. I have not always 
 fully understood you ; but whatever you did, under 
 any and all circumstances, whatever you may do 
 now or in the future, is right and beautiful in my 
 eyes, because it is you who do it." 
 
 He did not know what feeling it was in his 
 heart that compelled him to say this ; but, when he 
 saw the fervid gratitude it called up in his father's 
 beloved face, he was glad that he had obeyed his 
 impulse. 
 
 " Your faith in your father is infinitely precious 
 to him, Len," said Struan, " and I think my mo- 
 tives you may safely trust ; but don't expect me 
 not to make mistakes, for I seem doomed to them 
 in one way or another." 
 
 He looked away from his son as he spoke, and 
 Leonard had an instinct that his words might have 
 a special rather than a general application. His 
 heart glowed with love and sympathy as he said : 
 
 " If ever there was blind faith in the world, sir, 
 it seems to me that that is what my faith in you 
 is. It makes it easier for me to understand what 
 faith in God is. Millicent says it is a great deal
 
 158 STRUAN 
 
 grander for being blind, and that, if we see that a 
 being is good, we need ask for no further vision 
 concerning him. Oh, sir," the young fellow 
 broke off abruptly, with a change of tone and sub- 
 ject that was perhaps welcome to both, " I can 
 never be satisfied until you know Millicent. 
 Nothing that I or others have said, nothing that 
 
 O * O 
 
 we might say, can give you an idea of her until 
 you see her." 
 
 "Yes, tell me of Millicent," said his father, 
 unconscious of a brief sigh which, however, 
 Leonard had heard. " Tell me of Millicent," he 
 repeated. " We used to play together as chil- 
 dren ; but I went off to college, and she to 
 Europe, and we never met afterward. I'm glad 
 you looked her up and claimed the relationship, 
 though it is not a very close one. She grew 
 up a beauty, I know, and a very accomplished 
 woman. She's been tremendously admired, and 
 I've often wondered that she never married." 
 
 11 You wouldn't, sir, if you knew her," said 
 Len, decidedly, " and knew the men that, in spite 
 of the fact that she's past her first youth, are 
 only too glad to flock about her, wherever she 
 goes. There's no lack of them, more's the pity ; 
 for they are often in my way, and in hers, too, I 
 believe. If she wanted an assorted lot to choose
 
 STRUAN 159 
 
 from, she certainly would have it. There are big 
 swells with titles and money galore ; and there are 
 literary men and artists and musicians and men of 
 every sort, some brilliant and clever enough. Yet 
 the very best of them, when looked at in the light 
 of a husband for Millicent, shrivel to nothing ! 
 I used to get wild with rage, for fear she would 
 marry some of these men, but that was before I 
 knew her. It would be just as impossible for her 
 to do it as it would be for me to imagine it. I 
 am convinced that she will never marry, though 
 she says I mustn't make too sure of it, that, if 
 she were to meet, at fifty or at sixty, the man 
 that she could love, she would marry him at once ! 
 I don't think she will ever meet that man, how- 
 ever. So I am confident she will not marry." 
 
 " And it's pretty plain that you get comfort 
 from the thought," said Struan, smiling. " I've 
 seen from your letters what a charm she has for 
 you. I've had a sort of notion that you were in 
 love with her yourself." 
 
 " I am, indeed, sir," said the boy, with a frank 
 smile, a flush rising to his cheeks. " She knows 
 it perfectly, and laughs about it in the most mad- 
 dening way. She used to say that, properly regu- 
 lated, it was good for me, living in Paris in that 
 way. She allows me to call myself her knight,
 
 160 STRUAN 
 
 and to call her my lady ; and once in a while, but 
 not often, I may kiss her hand. Oh, I long for 
 you to know what she has been to me ! I've had 
 terrible fits of depression now and then, without 
 you to set me right ; and she told me to come to 
 her at those times, and speak to her as frankly as 
 I would to you. There is something hideous 
 about Paris ; and at times the horror of it possessed 
 me so that I would walk the streets all night, and 
 even search out its hideousness. It seemed to me 
 appalling that we should live gay and protected 
 lives in the midst of such crime and misery, and 
 content ourselves to shut our eyes to it. I 
 worked myself into such a state at times that, 
 if I had not had Millicent's presence and your 
 example, I don't know what would have been 
 the upshot." 
 
 " Yes," said Struan, earnestly, " I have never 
 for an instant lost sight of what you were endur- 
 ing. I went through it all before you. I spent 
 my youth in Paris, and I sent you there deliber- 
 ately. I knew you would be tried ; but I knew, 
 also, that you would not fail." 
 
 " Oh, sir, but I'm not as strong as you. I 
 am sure that, even as a boy, you were a stronger 
 character. I used to tell Millicent the things you 
 said to me in sending me out in the world. She
 
 STRUAN 161 
 
 would question me about it often ; and I told her 
 all, how you intentionally put me to the proof 
 to find out what stuff I was made of. I even told 
 her that you had said that I had by nature high 
 instincts and unusual gifts, and that you said, if I 
 was going to throw these away, now was the time 
 and Paris was the place, that you had said to 
 me, c If you can do it, do it.' I told Millicent 
 that you had assured me that I had forces in me 
 which, well directed, would help the world, and 
 that, in order to develop these to their highest, 
 I must know from personal experience both good 
 and evil, in order that I might intelligently choose 
 one and reject the other ; I told her that you gave 
 me a large allowance, that I might know that 
 liberty and that danger; and, lastly, I told her 
 that you watched me with love from across the 
 world, and trusted and believed in me. You see, 
 sir," he went on, " I remembered all that you said. 
 I talked it over with Millicent so often. She used 
 to say that she did not know whether you had 
 been wise or foolish, that it was magnificent, in 
 a way, but that it showed a rather rash confi- 
 dence in the unknown quantities of my strength 
 and will. There is nothing I cannot talk to her 
 about. Her mind is as clean as yours, sir, and 
 just as free."
 
 i6z STRUAN 
 
 Struan had listened with intense interest. Now 
 he said : 
 
 " If I had realized that you were under the 
 watchful care of such a woman, I should have 
 been spared many an hour's anxiety about you. 
 With your own soul and hers to guide you, you 
 couldn't have gone wrong. But, even without 
 Millicent, you would have come out all right." 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that, sir. You judge 
 me by yourself. You would. Indeed, you did. 
 But, without Millicent, I think I should have 
 failed." 
 
 Struan was silent for a moment. Presently he 
 said, as if after deliberate thought : 
 
 " Yes, Leonard, I went through the ordeal of 
 that Paris life almost unharmed. I came out of 
 it strengthened, if necessarily somewhat saddened. 
 But, then, my boy, what followed ? I made the 
 irretrievable mistake of a rash and unconsidered 
 marriage. The pain which our absolutely un- 
 matched natures brought to your poor mother 
 grieved me as much as my own bitter disappoint- 
 ment. It has hurt me always, it hurts me even 
 now, to think that another sort of man might 
 have made her happy." 
 
 " Father, don't think of it," said Len, tenderly. 
 "I am sure you are wrong to blame yourself. I
 
 STRUAN 163 
 
 am older now, and I have thought of it a great 
 deal in these years of absence. My poor little 
 mother would never, I am sure, have been happy 
 in any marriage. She was not made for it. I 
 want to tell you, sir, before we drop this sad sub- 
 ject, that I realize more every day how absolutely 
 you did the best you could for her." 
 
 " I hope so, Len. I wanted to. I tried to 
 with all my heart. As you say, it is a sad sub- 
 ject ; but I introduced it purposely, to give you, at 
 this important period of your life, a serious warn- 
 ing. Marriage, my son, to men like you and me " 
 (Leonard's heart swelled with pride at this : to 
 be called a man at all was still rather a novelty 
 to him ; but to be called a man like his father, the 
 man of men to him ! ) "is the supreme fact in life. 
 Wait with patience. Never think you love any 
 woman in the perfect way until every side of your 
 nature and every element of your being consents 
 to it, demands it. The supreme object of my life 
 now is to save you from making a mistake in mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " How strange ! That is precisely what Milli- 
 cent thinks. She says she will save me from that 
 tragedy at any cost. She wants me not to think 
 of marrying, if I can help it, until I am twenty- 
 eight. She says in some ways I develop slowly,
 
 164 STRUAN 
 
 though in some of my thoughts I am mature. 
 She wants me now to throw myself into my art, 
 as she is doing. Oh, if you could see her paint- 
 ing ! It is so strong and so delicate ! And she's 
 as humble ! It was years before she would ex- 
 hibit in the Salon j and then she made so little of 
 all the praise she got, and said the most of it came 
 from people who loved to flatter her. She declares 
 I have ten times her talent, and only need some 
 of her concentration. She has given me such 
 beautiful feelings about my art, and has shown me 
 how impossible it will be for me to do my best 
 work unless I keep my life clean and my spirit 
 pure. It's just what I've heard you say about 
 your music, sir. It's wonderful how much you 
 and Millicent think alike. Oh, how I do want 
 you to see each other ! " 
 
 " You are certainly her worshipper," said 
 Struan, with an indulgent smile. " I should like 
 indeed to see this paragon of women." 
 
 " That's exactly the way she talks of you, sir," 
 said Len, laughing. " She says she has always 
 been very proud to claim you as her cousin, as you 
 are the only genius the family has produced ; but 
 at the same time she says that, when she meets 
 you, she is certainly not going to expect that you 
 or mortal man will come up to my estimate of
 
 STRUAN 165 
 
 you. She is coming to America soon to make a 
 visit to her grandmother. I want you to see how 
 much she really cares for me. It humbles me in 
 the dust to think of it, and makes me resolute to 
 do something worthy of her. Oh, I long for you 
 to see how beautiful she is, how different from 
 all the rest of the world ! I have her photograph, 
 but it's a libel. Every one falls in love with her. 
 It's been no end of fun to me to make her other 
 admirers men, and women, too wild with 
 jealousy. She's self-willed, in a way, and won't 
 bore herself with people who are stupid ; and so 
 often she would let me carry her off by ourselves 
 somewhere, when there were a dozen people trying 
 to talk to her. I know how it will be when she 
 arrives in New York. I'll go to meet the steamer, 
 and there'll be a good many others who will do 
 the same ; and I can just see now how they will 
 all look, and how she will look, when she just 
 shakes hands all around, and then lets herself be 
 whisked away by me." 
 
 Struan smiled at the boy's enthusiasm ; but for 
 some inexplicable reason, and although his own 
 nature responded to all that his son said, he felt, 
 all at once, strangely old. 
 
 Leonard was just the same, and yet there -seemed 
 to be a great accumulation of years on his part.
 
 i66 STRUAN 
 
 The boy's freshness and ardor were almost a sur- 
 prise to him. He had always had that trick of 
 addressing his father as " sir." It seemed an in- 
 stinct with him to express this deference for his 
 beloved parent, with whom he was at the same 
 time so familiar.
 
 XI 
 
 IT was out of the question to work any more 
 that day. Struan put his letters and papers 
 aside, and got ready to take Leonard home. 
 It crossed his mind to wait till evening, and send 
 Jenny a telegram meantime ; but Jenny had a way 
 of " dressing for company," and putting on also 
 a company manner, that he had often seen with 
 distaste. He preferred to take her by surprise, 
 when she would at least be natural. Besides, he 
 dreaded intensely the ordeal of introducing Leon- 
 ard to Jenny ; and, since it had to be done, he 
 wanted to get it over. He had meant to say abso- 
 lutely nothing to Leonard that might hint at a 
 disappointment in his second marriage. He knew 
 that the fact of his silence would be indication 
 enough that things were not all that he had hoped. 
 As the interview had turned out, however, he felt 
 that Leonard was, in a measure, prepared to find 
 Jenny somewhat different from what his ardent 
 idealization of his father's wife had led him to 
 expect. 
 
 When they reached the house and went up on 
 the porch, Jenny was practising. The noise of 
 167
 
 168 STRUAN 
 
 the piano prevented her hearing their footsteps j 
 and, as they now stood still to listen, Struan felt 
 an instant's sense of pride. 
 
 " What a charming voice ! " said the younger 
 man, in an enthusiastic whisper. 
 
 Struan nodded in a confident way, but at the 
 same time his face showed certain signs of a dis- 
 turbance that Leonard saw with pain. 
 
 They waited till the music paused ; and then 
 Struan, opening the Venetian shutters, stepped 
 through the low window, and said in a voice 
 whose heartiness was a trifle overdone : 
 
 "Jenny, I have a surprise for you. Here is 
 Leonard." 
 
 Jenny sprang up in great confusion, putting her 
 hands to her head where a row of curl-papers 
 bristled. Then she looked down at her gown, 
 which, though free and graceful in its lines, was 
 neither fresh nor tidy. Then her face turned 
 scarlet ; and she gave Struan a look of indignant 
 reproach, which had in it a certain gleam of bad 
 temper. 
 
 " I never heard of such a thing ! " she said. 
 " What did you let him come here and catch me 
 this way for ? " 
 
 Poor Struan and poor Len ! 
 
 The former began to apologize, saying sooth-
 
 STRUAN 169 
 
 ingly : " It doesn't matter. You mustn't mind 
 Len." While the latter, with the image of a 
 grande dame so fresh in his mind, by way of con- 
 trast, felt a sense of pity for his father which al- 
 most choked him. A like feeling urged him at 
 the same time to assume a manner of respectful 
 homage, such as he would have shown to Milli- 
 cent herself, as he came forward and said : 
 
 " I beg your pardon for coming in so uncere- 
 moniously. I hope you are not going to make a 
 stranger of me." And, reaching for her hand, he 
 carried it to his lips with a charming foreign 
 grace. 
 
 As soon as Jenny recovered her hand, she began 
 with nervous haste to take down her curl-papers, 
 blushing and half-crying with vexation as she 
 looked up at him, towering above her and above 
 Struan himself. 
 
 Even in that agitated moment it seemed to her 
 that she had never seen a more attractive young 
 creature. He must have been quite six feet three 
 in height, and his motions were full of ease and 
 grace. He had curly blond hair, the shadow of 
 a mustache, and long dark eyes that lingered on 
 the mind's retina long after he had turned away. 
 He was dressed with a careless elegance, and 
 carried with him a certain atmosphere which
 
 STRUAN 
 
 made Jenny realize what poor imitations of 
 fashionable young men had been the stage repre- 
 sentations which she had seen. 
 
 It was all the more annoying that he should 
 have caught her so. She felt furious with Struan 
 for having put her in such a position. Making 
 a rather awkward excuse for herself, she hurried 
 away, saying she would go and order Leonard's 
 room to be made ready for him. 
 
 Left alone, the two men, as with one consent, 
 looked away from each other. 
 
 " Well, here are to be your quarters for 
 a while," said Struan, glancing round the room j 
 and Leonard, as he did the same, said : 
 
 " What a snug place you have here ! " 
 
 41 Yes, it's very comfortable, which is all we 
 claim," said Struan. " Poor Jenny, she is morti- 
 fied at her deshabille" he went on. " It was in- 
 considerate of me, but I did not think. You 
 know I have a habit of not thinking, Len, about 
 these little things that mean often so much to 
 others. I have a way of walking with my head 
 in the clouds, so they say." 
 
 " My dear father ! " said Leonard, ardently, his 
 voice almost choked with tears. 
 
 Somehow, it touched the father's heart too 
 much. He could not bear the sweetness of this
 
 STRUAN 171 
 
 subtle sympathy ; and, saying hastily that he 
 would speak to Jenny for a moment, he left the 
 room. 
 
 Upstairs he found her scrambling wildly into 
 a rather elaborate - looking dress, her face still 
 flushed, and her hair distinctly over-curly from 
 its recent release from confinement. She looked 
 at him with a vivid vexation in her eyes, but did 
 not speak. 
 
 " Forgive me, Jenny," he said. " I didn't 
 think " 
 
 " Oh, no, of course, you didn't think ! It 
 seems to me you might have thought. I never 
 saw myself look a greater fright. I don't know 
 what your son must think of me." 
 
 " Len will not mind," said Struan, soothingly, 
 " if you only like him and make friends with him. 
 It will not matter to him about your dress." 
 
 " It matters to me," she said fretfully. " I'll 
 never get over the mortification of it as long as I 
 live." 
 
 Struan felt keenly hurt. To think that the 
 meeting of these two beings his wife and his 
 son should have been spoiled by so insignificant 
 a matter as a costume gave him a certain sense of 
 bitterness. Things were either big or little to 
 him, and dress was among the little things of life ; 
 while to Jenny it was one of the biggest.
 
 172 STRUAN 
 
 " I'm sorry, dear," he said. 
 
 " I'm sure I think you ought to be," she an- 
 swered in a tone more disagreeable than any he 
 had heard her use. u For goodness' sake, go 
 now, and take your son to his room. Harriet 
 must have it ready by this time. I've got to go 
 and see what on earth I can get for lunch. Oh, 
 it's too bad ! " she said, wrestling with the hooks 
 of her dress, which fastened on her left shoulder, 
 and which would not catch. 
 
 Struan had often performed this little service for 
 her ; and he went now, and said kindly : 
 
 " Let me do that, Jenny." 
 
 She permitted him to fasten it, but did not look 
 at him. 
 
 " Never mind about lunch," he said. " Any- 
 thing will do." 
 
 This glib and ambiguous phrase was singularly 
 irritating to her, as it has been to many a house- 
 keeper before her. 
 
 " Oh, yes, anything will do," she said ; " but I 
 don't suppose nothing will do, will it ? " 
 
 She delivered this taunt with a little laugh, 
 which Struan distinctly did not like. Then she 
 left him, and went downstairs. 
 
 To Struan the meal was as unimportant as the 
 costume, and he was grieved to have his son so
 
 STRUAN 173 
 
 treated as a stranger in his house. It seemed to 
 matter little to Jenny whether he was received 
 with cordiality and affection or not, so long as she 
 was becomingly dressed and could give him a 
 creditable lunch. Struan's points of view were, 
 without doubt, a little hard on Jenny. Life 
 seemed to him often so simple where she found it 
 complex, and so complex where she found it 
 simple. 
 
 Leonard meanwhile was walking about like a 
 stranger in the drawing-room of his father's house. 
 The strangeness of the exterior, however, was 
 little compared to the strangeness by which his 
 inmost soul felt Jenny to be an alien, and knew 
 that she must ever be such to him. He thought 
 of his glorious father, and wondered how such 
 a thing could be. He thought of Millicent, and 
 wondered what her trenchant insight would make 
 of this strange situation. 
 
 The one redeeming thing, so far, was Jenny's 
 singing. Certainly, she had a lovely voice. Turn- 
 ing toward the piano, he was about to examine the 
 music scattered there, when he noticed a glass 
 half full of water standing in the midst of it, 
 and, stuck to the side of the glass, a curious-look- 
 ing gray thing that he could not at first make out. 
 Stooping, that he might examine it better with his
 
 174 STRUAN 
 
 short-sighted eyes, he discovered that it was a 
 small wad of chewing-gum, which had already 
 served its purpose, in part, at least. He had 
 been an American school-boy, and he knew what 
 it was. 
 
 Divided between repulsion and amusement, he 
 turned away, to meet his father's ardent welcom- 
 ing eyes, as he said : 
 
 11 Come, Len, your room is ready. Jenny has 
 gone to look us up some lunch." And he took 
 his son's arm affectionately, and led him upstairs. 
 
 Leonard felt a strong impulse to throw his arms 
 around his beloved father's neck, and cry upon 
 his breast. He controlled it, however; and they 
 walked along, keeping up a rather perfunctory 
 talk, until they reached the ornate apartment 
 which Jenny called "the spare room." 
 
 Struan never had occasion to come here, and he 
 scarcely knew it, so that its appearance now was 
 something of a shock to him. 
 
 It was true, as Jenny had said, that in the ar- 
 rangement of the house she had virtually effaced 
 herself; and the rooms which Struan saw and 
 made use of had been furnished according to his 
 taste, and not hers. Jenny had managed to have 
 it so without his really taking in the fact. 
 
 In u the spare room," however, Jenny had
 
 STRUAN 175 
 
 worked her sweet will, aided by suggestions from 
 Mrs. Wallis. True, she had had almost no 
 guests ; but it had been an amusement to her to 
 execute here some of the fashion-book hints which 
 she and Mrs. Wallis found so pleasing, so there 
 were endless knick-knacks and kickshaws, which 
 made the room look as trivial and meretricious as 
 could well be. 
 
 To do Jenny justice, she had intended to make 
 things more in accord with Struan's taste before 
 the arrival of his son j but whose fault was it that 
 she had not done so ? After the catastrophe of 
 the toilet and the lunch, this seemed a small affair. 
 
 To Leonard this overdone and trashy room 
 represented a new tragedy in his father's life. Its 
 effect upon him, therefore, was to make him feel 
 more deeply tender than ever to this dear being, 
 who, deserving the best in marriage as in all things, 
 had, for some occult reason, fared so ill. There 
 was too keen a sympathy between them for Struan 
 not to divine, in part, what Leonard was feeling, 
 not the concrete essence of it, but there was an 
 atmosphere of sympathy which his son's presence 
 cast about him. 
 
 Leonard, for his part, felt afraid that his father 
 would notice his making no comment whatever 
 upon Jenny. So he took refuge in saying,
 
 1 76 STRUAN 
 
 "What a charming voice " 
 
 He got so far, and then stumbled. He felt 
 utterly at a loss what to call her. He had meant 
 to say " mamma," but that was impossible. He 
 could not call her " Mrs. Struan " ; and to say 
 " your wife " would, he feared, sound as if he 
 wished to repudiate the relationship to himself. 
 
 " Yes, her voice is lovely. You must make her 
 sing for you," Struan answered, evidently perceiv- 
 ing the difficulty, but not helping him out of it. 
 Then, as if by a sudden impulse, he put both 
 hands on Leonard's shoulders, and, looking up 
 into his face, said earnestly : 
 
 41 My son, this young and gifted girl has been 
 very trustful of me. She has given up a great deal 
 for me. She wanted to go on the stage, and she 
 could have made a success in light opera. She 
 gave it up for me." 
 
 " More's the pity ! " was Leonard's inward com- 
 ment. Jenny seemed to him as admirably fitted 
 to the career she had abandoned as she was un- 
 fitted to the one she had adopted. That little 
 soubrette Lucien Struan's wife! He felt as if it 
 must be some disturbing dream from which he 
 must awaken. 
 
 The lunch that followed seemed a part of that 
 same dream. Jenny apologized for everything,
 
 STRUAN 177 
 
 and, indeed, took up most of the talk, taking pains 
 to make it appear that she knew what a good 
 lunch was, and was not giving them such simple 
 fare from ignorance. She had not got over her 
 bad humor at being taken by surprise, and Struan 
 thought he had never seen her appear to such dis- 
 advantage. He felt almost as sorry for Jenny as 
 Leonard felt for him, so that the manner of the 
 two men was more than ordinarily gentle and 
 amiable, a fact which made a certain resentment 
 in Jenny's bearing the more apparent. 
 
 Leonard praised the lunch, spoke warmly of 
 her voice and his eagerness to hear her again, and 
 made himself so painstakingly agreeable that he 
 overdid it a little ; and the shrewd Jenny saw the 
 effort, and resented it. 
 
 After lunch she said she knew that they would 
 want to smoke ; and so she excused herself, saying 
 she had an errand to a neighbor's. A little later 
 they saw her going down the walk and out into 
 the street. 
 
 She went at once to her friend Ida's, and poured 
 forth her woes into very sympathetic ears. Ida 
 thought her grievance quite as important as she 
 herself considered it; and Jenny, under the provo- 
 cation of her wrongs, allowed herself to speak 
 more freely of her marriage and its consequences 
 for her than she had ever spoken before.
 
 178 STRUAN 
 
 The very fact of utterance made her woes more 
 definite to her own consciousness ; and, stung by 
 the conviction that Leonard, for all his politeness, 
 looked down upon her and pitied his father for 
 his marriage, she spoke out for the first time a 
 feeling that had long lurked unuttered in her mind. 
 
 " The truth is," she said, " I was a sentimental 
 fool to marry a man old enough to be my father, 
 who thinks and feels differently from me on every 
 subject under the sun." 
 
 This was enough for Ida. She had always felt 
 a sense of inferiority in Struan's presence that 
 galled her ; and now, following Jenny's lead, she 
 expressed herself so freely as to the unfitness of 
 the marriage that Jenny's long-practised habit of 
 loyalty gave way before it, and she ended by hav- 
 ing a hearty fit of crying. 
 
 The only thing that enabled her to rally from 
 this was the recollection that she must meet 
 Leonard again, and must not have red eyes. She 
 did not care to see him, she would have been 
 glad to avoid it ; but, since it had to be, she 
 wanted to do herself credit. She felt a certain 
 sense of exhilaration at the thought of singing 
 for this splendid young man. There, at least, 
 she believed that she could impress him. She 
 had a pretty just conception of the hopelessness 
 of any attempt to do so, except in this particular.
 
 STRUAN 179 
 
 But when the time for her triumph came, and 
 though she had the support and comfort of feel- 
 ing that she did herself full justice, there was an 
 undoubted and inexplicable drop of bitterness 
 even in this cup. 
 
 When Leonard asked her to sing, and she rose 
 to comply, Struan at once offered to play her 
 accompaniments. 
 
 " What is it ? " he said. " What have you been 
 practising ? " 
 
 " This," said Jenny, placing a sheet of music 
 before him, and taking her place at his side with 
 an air of satisfied confidence. 
 
 Struan ran over the opening chords with his 
 master-touch that even in those few notes made 
 Len's heart swell, and then Jenny sang. 
 
 Her performance was unquestionably brilliant. 
 To a naturally rich and charming voice was 
 added the great advantage of Struan's training, 
 and she sang her selected song with an abandon 
 that was admirable. Had Leonard heard it on 
 the French stage, he would have applauded 
 heartily ; but, hearing it so, and realizing that this 
 dashing little singer was his father's wife, he felt 
 a powerful sense of protest, which was immeas- 
 urably deepened as he watched his father's face. 
 
 " Bravo, Jenny ! " said Struan, as the song con-
 
 i8o STRUAN 
 
 eluded. " I am certain that Len has never heard 
 that better done." 
 
 It was true, and Len made haste to say so. 
 But was it worth the doing ? All work well 
 clone was that, he told himself; but this rollick- 
 ing bit of opera-bouffe, was it the sort of thing 
 for Struan's wife ? Distinctly no ! 
 
 And Jenny, who was quick to mark effects, 
 felt that there was something in her performance 
 that grated as well as something that pleased. 
 
 Still, Leonard thanked her, almost enthusiasti- 
 cally, and asked her to sing again. When she 
 definitely declined, however, he did not insist. 
 Then, as Struan still sat at the piano, the younger 
 man drew nearer, and said with emotion : 
 
 " Play to me, father. I have not heard you for 
 so long, and there is nothing to me in the whole 
 world of music like your playing." 
 
 And Struan played, sonorously, powerfully, 
 passionately, on and on and on, while Leonard 
 sat and listened. When the music ceased at last, 
 they looked into each other's eyes with a sense 
 of understanding which comforted both hearts. 
 After that, it seemed that words were not much 
 needed between them. 
 
 When they thought of Jenny, and looked 
 around for her, they found that she was gone.
 
 XII 
 
 NEXT morning, early, Jenny came to Struan 
 with a request. Mr. and Mrs. Wallis. 
 she said, were going for a week to the 
 seashore for a little pleasure trip ; and she wanted 
 to go with them. 
 
 The very eagerness that Struan felt to grant her 
 request made him hesitate, and she had more diffi- 
 culty than was common in getting his consent to 
 her plan. There was no reasonable ground of 
 objection to it, however, except his own lack of 
 liking for the Wallises ; and, as he had no basis 
 for that but an instinctive one, he felt that he had 
 no right to deny her this pleasure. 
 
 So she went ; and Struan was left alone with 
 his dear son. 
 
 Leonard's luggage arrived, and he had begun 
 his unpacking, when, in the midst of it, Struan 
 knocked at the door. 
 
 " Come in, sir," he said eagerly, rising from 
 his knees before a big trunk. " I'll talk to you in 
 a minute. I've been getting out some presents 
 that I've brought to different people. I've got 
 several little things for you, sir; but the most 
 important of these is still in the custom-house." 
 181
 
 182 STRUAN 
 
 He turned, and resumed his rummaging in the 
 trunk ; while Struan walked about the room, pick- 
 ing up and laying down the boy's various small 
 belongings, all of which had for his father a sig- 
 nificance and interest. 
 
 Presently Leonard, kneeling before the trunk 
 with his back turned, heard himself addressed by 
 a summoning voice, almost stern in its concentra- 
 tion. 
 
 " Leonard," it said ; and he started to his feet, 
 surprised. 
 
 His father looked at him over a photograph 
 that he held in his hand, and said, almost with 
 agitation : 
 
 " This is Millicent ? " 
 
 There was an interrogative inflection in his 
 words ; but there was absolute conviction in his 
 tones. 
 
 " Oh, you have found it ! " said Leonard. " I 
 was looking for it to show you. What do you 
 think of it ? " 
 
 " Think of it ? I don't think of it. My soul 
 salutes it. Great heavens, what a face ! " 
 
 Leonard had never heard his father put such 
 force into an exclamation before ; and yet he 
 spoke low, and as if more to himself than his son. 
 He stood as if rapt in the contemplation of this
 
 STRUAN 183 
 
 picture, holding it first close to his eyes and then 
 far off, as if to get the broad view. 
 
 " What a face ! " he said again, and this time 
 with some recognition of his companion's pres- 
 ence. " Never did I see face of man or woman 
 express so much. What nobility in the curve of 
 that head ! What intellect in that brow ! What 
 purity, courage, humor, in those eyes ! What 
 spirituality and what passion in that mouth ! 
 Every one of these is as apparent as is the physical 
 beauty." 
 
 " Oh, sir, it thrills me to hear you speak of 
 Millicent so. What will you think when you 
 see her, for that picture is a poor thing ? She has 
 every one of those things that you've said ; and she 
 is, besides, cultivated and witty beyond any woman 
 I have ever seen, and sympathetic to a miracle. 
 Then she's so perfectly well-dressed, so inde- 
 pendent and individual ; and she's grande dame, 
 too, I can tell you. I can hardly wait for you to 
 see her, sir. I want you to thank her for all she 
 has done for me. Think of it ! I have never 
 felt myself worthy to kiss the spot of carpet where 
 her beautiful feet have rested ; and yet, when I was 
 leaving, what do you think she did ? She reached 
 up with both hands, and pulled my head down, and 
 kissed me, first on one cheek and then on the
 
 1 84 STRUAN 
 
 other. Then oh, how I can see her ! she 
 drew back, still holding my head, and looked into 
 my eyes, and laughed. I could never describe to 
 you how Millicent looks when she laughs like 
 that. Her eyes get long, and twinkle between 
 their dark lashes ; her lips just part a little, and 
 show her white teeth ; and the corners of her 
 mouth go in, and get deep. She looks like a child 
 and a sage and a sprite, all in one. Sometimes I 
 fancy," he added with a change of tone, " that, if 
 Millicent were not good, she'd be very bad ; for I 
 believe she can do what she likes with men." 
 
 " I can understand it," said Struan, still looking 
 at the picture. " I made allowance for your boyish 
 rhapsodies, Len ; but there is no denying what 
 there is in this face. I respect and believe in you, 
 my boy," he went on; "but I devoutly thank the 
 Lord that she is good, and not bad. If it had not 
 been so, you would have had a danger far beyond 
 any that my youth ever knew. As it is, she has 
 done you a service, which you are too young and 
 ignorant to understand, in having realized your 
 ideal of woman. Now, if you should ever sink 
 below your highest possible, you will be faithless 
 and cowardly, indeed. I am determined, my son, 
 that you shall realize your rare, your almost un- 
 paralleled good fortune, and the demand which
 
 STRUAN 185 
 
 this woman makes upon your life. I think you 
 do understand it better than most would. I have 
 dealt with you frankly from childhood. I have 
 not failed to impress upon you my conviction that 
 the relations of man and woman is the most im- 
 portant factor in human existence, and that love is 
 the master-passion. The thing of all others in 
 which it seems to me that the times are out of 
 joint is in the mistakes which men and women 
 make on the question of marriage ; and those mis- 
 takes spring oftenest, I believe, from the fact that 
 neither men nor women are so blessed, usually, as 
 to have an ideal in the opposite sex to live up to. 
 If it so be that boys and young girls create such 
 an ideal out of their own pure and beautiful imagi- 
 nations, contact with life is apt to disappoint and 
 destroy it. Why is this ? One cause must be, I 
 think, that the ideal of marriage I speak espe- 
 cially of men is so low, so selfish, so unspirit- 
 ual. It is that which has kept this woman from 
 marrying, God bless her ! Her life is maimed 
 and incomplete, as every unmarried life is, whether 
 man's or woman's, and I know that in her heart 
 she feels it so ; but it has the compensation of 
 truth to its ideal, a far better thing than a make- 
 shift marriage could give. In knowing such a 
 woman as this, my boy, you've got a safeguard for
 
 i86 STRUAN 
 
 your future life which should make a mistaken 
 marriage impossible to you. With the memory 
 of the mistake which clouded my early life, this 
 assurance for you is invaluable to me." 
 
 He had not said that his later marriage had been 
 a mistake, Leonard noticed ; but neither had he 
 said that it had not been. The boy felt that he 
 understood his father, and even that his father was 
 willing to be understood by him, though it would 
 have been impossible for him to put it into words, 
 the confession that his second marriage also 
 had been a mistake. 
 
 " Oh, sir, I shall never marry, I am sure," said 
 Leonard. " Not that I don't long for it, and 
 should feel myself, as you say, stunted and blighted 
 without it ; but, after knowing Millicent, I feel 
 that it would be impossible for me to marry any 
 other woman." 
 
 His father looked at him seriously for a moment. 
 Then he smiled. 
 
 " I'm going to make a guess," he said. " Have 
 you not, perhaps, thought more or less seriously of 
 marrying Millicent herself?" 
 
 A flush flew over Leonard's face, and he laughed 
 with an embarrassed consciousness, as he said : 
 
 "Yes, sir, I used to think of it a great deal 
 once. I don't know whether I should ever have
 
 STRUAN 187 
 
 got up the courage to mention to her such an im- 
 pertinence ; but she guessed my thought one day, 
 and questioned me about it." 
 
 " And did she think it an impertinence ? " 
 " Not in the least. She treated it quite gravely, 
 and told me that she had spoken of it in order that 
 I might look it in the face, and banish it at once. 
 She even said, sir, that she did not look upon even 
 so great a difference in age, and on what is usually 
 considered the wrong side, too, as so great an ob- 
 stacle to happiness in marriage as others which 
 were disregarded every day, such as lack of love, 
 lack of respect, lack of congeniality. She has her 
 own ideas, sir; and one of them is that true com- 
 panionship and sympathy are the right basis of 
 marriage. She said she felt it not impossible that 
 she might meet with these in a man much her 
 junior in years, but with a mind which was the 
 likeness and equal of her own, and that, if she 
 did, she would consider the accident of age a non- 
 essential. She even pointed out to me that those 
 marriages which she had known under such con- 
 ditions had turned out uniformly well. She thinks 
 this is because the women were chosen for their 
 mental and spiritual qualities rather than the phys- 
 ical ones which are apt to regulate a man's choice, 
 that the real rather than the apparent settled the
 
 1 88 STRUAN 
 
 thing. There is good sense in that, don't you 
 think so, sir ? But, all the same, she went on to 
 tell me that, in the case of herself and me, she did 
 not recognize the elements of a true union. She 
 said that, both in mind and nature as well as in 
 years and experience, I was far too young for her ; 
 but she did say oh, sir, I never can forget that 
 she said that! that, if she had met me twenty 
 years ago, when there really might have been a 
 proper equality and adjustment between our nat- 
 ures, it might have been possible. Think of 
 that ! " 
 
 " It will be, as it ought to be, a precious mem- 
 ory for you always, my boy ; and I am proud and 
 glad for you that you have it. Whether Millicent 
 is right in her theory that it is the minds and 
 spirits of men and women that should be equal 
 rather than their mere bodies, I do not know. 
 It is an interesting idea. For myself, I have 
 thought differently ; and I have reproached myself 
 at times for fear that I might have wronged the 
 trustful girl who gave herself to me so unquestion- 
 ingly, in the very flower of her youth." He paused 
 a moment, then looked at Leonard keenly, and 
 went on : " You are too shrewd, my son, where 
 your father is concerned, not to see clearly. Al- 
 ready it must have become apparent to you that
 
 STRUAN 189 
 
 Jenny and I have some of our interests apart. 
 I have yielded to an inevitable necessity in having 
 it so, but any blame there may be in the matter 
 rests with me. She trusted herself so nobly and 
 so ardently to me that it shall be always, as it now 
 is, the first duty of my life to make her happy, 
 as happy as I can." 
 
 Leonard's face was clouded. 
 
 " Must unhappiness be forever the price of 
 greatness ? " he said. " If you are to feel that you 
 cannot make this young girl happy, how you will 
 suffer ! O my dearest father," he added in his 
 affectionately impulsive way, " it seems to me that 
 you must have suffered enough." 
 
 " No," said Struan, throwing back his head and 
 bracing his shoulders squarely as he looked at his 
 son with a smile, " I have had as much as my 
 share, perhaps, of life's pain, but no more. When 
 I see the human race such a vast, unending 
 multitude climbing the steep hill of life, each 
 bearing his load, I should be sorry to walk in that 
 throng unburdened. My shoulders are strong; 
 and I should rather wish to take the load of those 
 who are weaker, and let them go free. That 
 would be my choice, and a man who has what he 
 truly considers the better part has no reason to 
 complain. I do not call myself unhappy. Of all
 
 STRUAN 
 
 contemptible traits that I know, the sentiment of 
 self-pity seems to me the weakest. Look at 
 Byron. What eloquent volumes he wrote on 
 the subject of his own woes ! How he called on 
 gods and men to pity his sad case ! As if any one 
 could give pity to a man who so overweeningly 
 pitied himself! " 
 
 The conversation was interrupted here, and not 
 again renewed. 
 
 In point of fact, Struan was now at what seemed 
 to him the dreariest point in his life journey. His 
 love for Jenny, fed from one only of the many 
 sources which go to supply the continually recur- 
 ring demands of marriage, had long ago begun to 
 wane. The consciousness of this was an almost 
 greater pain to him than any that he had known 
 before. It was not an ignoble pain, for he suf- 
 fered more on her account than on his own. He 
 felt that, if he could keep the knowledge of his 
 disappointment from her, he could bear it. If not, 
 if she found it out in all the depth and breadth 
 of its meaning, it seemed to him that it must al- 
 most overwhelm him.
 
 XIII 
 
 JENNY stayed away a week ; and, in the few 
 hastily scrawled notes that she sent back, 
 she expressed herself as being so delighted 
 with her experience and surroundings that Struan 
 felt free to abandon himself, without compunction, 
 to the delight of being alone with his son. 
 
 It was a wonderful week for them both, for 
 Leonard's youthful freshness enriched his father as 
 much as Struan's matured but equally ardent en- 
 thusiasm of life enriched the son. There had al- 
 ways been an extraordinary affinity between these 
 two ; but, as Leonard had grown from boyhood to 
 manhood, the congeniality of their natures was 
 broadened and intensified. They had long talks 
 'ogether, extending sometimes far into the morn- 
 ing hours ; and, besides this, they visited together, 
 took little excursions, and, best of all, went to- 
 gether to hear music. Leonard did not play nor 
 sing ; but he had an exquisite sensibility for music, 
 and a very good knowledge of its theory. Besides 
 this, he had had access all his life to the very best 
 in music ; and his taste had been cultivated by his 
 father's direction from the time he was a boy. In 
 191
 
 192 STRUAN 
 
 this way he had set up so high a standard that 
 Jenny's brilliant mediocrity was rather a trial to 
 him than otherwise. He knew the sort of music 
 that his father loved and craved, and it seemed to 
 him that Jenny's pretty trolling must make Struan 
 feel almost as would a starving man, if a plate 
 of strawberries were offered him. 
 
 One evening the father and son had dined in 
 town with friends and had gone to a concert after- 
 ward, reaching home after midnight. It had been 
 a delightful and inspiring time ; and yet, somehow, 
 the thought of Jenny knocked at the door of 
 Struan's heart. Since Leonard's return he had 
 seen more of his former friends and associates, 
 the people in whose company poor Jenny was 
 ever such an alien, and among whom Leonard was 
 so much at home. Many of these people were 
 relatives or early friends ; and Struan had found 
 the renewal of the intercourse with them, which 
 came about through Len's return, so delightful 
 that it served as a sort of warning to him. For, 
 in spite of all his love for Leonard, Jenny's was 
 the strongest claim that he recognized in his life. 
 
 To-night, as he and Len returned to the house 
 which Jenny's companionship had made home to 
 him, there was a certain wistful compunction in 
 his heart.
 
 STRUAN 193 
 
 When he opened the door with his latch-key 
 and let himself into the hall, the first object that 
 met his eyes was Jenny's immense travelling 
 trunk. Could she have returned ? It must be so. 
 
 It was no great surprise to him, for she had 
 said in her last letter : " Expect me when you see 
 me. I may come any time." And he had an- 
 swered by rather urging her to come back as soon 
 as she could do so without spoiling her visit. She 
 was an independent body, and never cared to be 
 met at trains, so there was nothing startling in 
 the present occurrence. Yet, somehow, he felt 
 strangely moved by it. 
 
 In the dining-room he found the remnants of a 
 hurried lunch : also one of Jenny's gloves had been 
 left upon the table. Evidently, she was here. 
 
 Dismissing Leonard to his own room, he went 
 to Jenny's. Opening the door softly, he saw that 
 she was in bed and fast asleep. The light was 
 turned low ; and, crossing to her side, he stood for 
 some moments looking down at her. 
 
 She looked very young, almost childish. How 
 could he ever have thought that a girl with that 
 essentially youthful face, on which experience had 
 not stamped one trace, could have been the com- 
 panion of his world-worn years, the sympathizer 
 with his saddened manhood ? It was impossible.
 
 194 STRUAN 
 
 Never since the very first months of his mar- 
 riage had he tried to talk to Jenny of the deep 
 things of his life. She was a primitive creature, 
 and the problems that seemed difficult to him 
 were simple to her. She believed frankly in hav- 
 ing what you wanted without too many qualms as 
 to how you got it. She had a strong will and a 
 stout spirit, a nature as free from morbidness and 
 scruples as that of a savage. 
 
 Struan, who had looked at her always through 
 the glorifying medium of his own idealizing, was 
 precluded from a critical judgment of her nature 
 and character. As he looked down at her now, 
 the tears came into his eyes. A poignant pity 
 for the mistake that she had made came to him, 
 with the full consciousness that his second mar- 
 riage had been no more a marriage of true minds 
 than the first. There was some element at work 
 in him to-night which made the weight of his 
 compunction heavy. 
 
 Intentionally, he made a noise, in the hope of 
 waking her. He wanted to speak to her, to take 
 her into his arms, and tell her how fervently he 
 vowed to cherish and protect and love her all his 
 life. 
 
 When she slept on, undisturbed, he bent over, 
 laying his strong brown hand on her little dimpled 
 one, and softly calling her name.
 
 STRUAN 195 
 
 Jenny opened her eyes with a sleepy frown, and 
 blinked at him for a moment. Then she said 
 half petulantly : 
 
 " Oh, don't wake me up. I'm nearly dead with 
 sleep. Put that light out of my eyes." And, 
 rolling over in bed, she drew a long breath, com- 
 posed her little body in a yet more relaxed position, 
 and was asleep. 
 
 He put the light out, stepping softly, and left 
 the room, noiselessly closing the door. 
 
 It was many hours that he lay on his bed, rest- 
 less and self-tormented. What a miserable mis- 
 take he had made of his life ! How he seemed to 
 blight whatever he touched ! He could not help 
 feeling, because he knew in his own heart that his 
 love for Jenny was waning, that the fact must, 
 somehow, make her unhappy. But then he would 
 tell himself that that was impossible, since the 
 secret was still his own ; and he resolved anew 
 that she should never know it. He thought, with 
 a dull, deep pain, of the woman that he had first 
 married ; and he wondered again how it would have 
 been with her, had he left her life untouched by 
 him. His common sense told him that it would 
 have made no difference, as physical ill-health and 
 melancholy discontent seemed inherent with her. 
 Yet he imagined that perhaps another man might
 
 196 STRUAN 
 
 have known how to lighten her burdens as he had 
 not known. 
 
 To-night there came to him a clearer vision 
 than he had ever had before. He saw the mis- 
 takes of his life with perfect distinctness. His 
 supreme error had been in having lowered his ideal 
 of marriage and of woman. Even in boyhood he 
 had had that ideal, and he had been aware of cer- 
 tain twinges of conscience for his unfaithfulness to 
 it at the time of his first marriage. That, how- 
 ever, he could forgive himself on the ground of 
 youth. What he could not forgive himself was 
 his second marriage. In the recoil of his nature 
 from the narrow-mindedness, prudishness, pietism, 
 lack of feeling, in his first wife, he had imagined 
 that a woman who contradicted all these traits as 
 absolutely as Jenny did must make him happy. 
 But now he asked himself why he had been so 
 blind as to stop here in his requirements. The 
 answer was obvious. His faith had faltered. He 
 had been so weak, so foolish, so blind, as to accept 
 as final the witness of his own limited experience, 
 and to believe that the woman of his ideal did not 
 exist. He had sought her so long in the social 
 life of cities, in the free life of Bohemia, in the 
 isolated life of the country, and had sought her in 
 vain. So he had given up, like a coward, and had 
 accepted a compromise.
 
 STRUAN 197 
 
 The pressure of life was harder on him, in a 
 way, to-night than it had ever been before. The 
 explanation of this lay, probably, in his meeting 
 with his son. Leonard's nature was much like 
 his own ; and to have seen and talked with this 
 boy, who stood at the threshold of the youth 
 which he looked back upon, made his mistakes 
 seem the more flagrant. There were, however, 
 two thoughts of comfort to be gathered from his 
 present situation. One was that he could watch 
 and warn Leonard, to keep him from a like mis- 
 take. The other was that he could cherish, pro- 
 tect, and, he hoped, brighten Jenny's life. He 
 still believed that she was happier with him than 
 she could have been without him. He was able 
 to gratify abundantly her youthful whims for 
 clothes and jewelry and pleasure trips, and he 
 knew that he had a love for her which would last 
 her all her life, if she had need of it. 
 
 He fell asleep at last, soothed by the thought 
 that it was left to him at least " to consume his 
 own smoke " and to cast a clear light on the 
 pathway of two dear beings, his beloved son and 
 the still dear little creature whom he had made his 
 wife. 
 
 It was fortunate for Struan that he was at this 
 time extremely busy. He was working with all
 
 198 STRUAN 
 
 his rare energy of body and concentration of mind 
 on the preparations for a great musical festival 
 which he was to conduct in New York a little 
 later. He pressed Leonard into service as his 
 assistant, and made him useful in many important 
 ways, his pride in the big fellow, when he would 
 introduce him as his son, giving him a joy that 
 made his face radiant. 
 
 Leonard, on the other hand, compelled his 
 father to break through the rule of years past, and 
 go with him occasionally into society. He even 
 beguiled him to a ball, where Struan would have 
 been intolerably bored but for his pleasure in 
 watching his great handsome boy, towering above 
 the rest of the company, as he strolled about with 
 a certain foreign grace, which was recently ac- 
 quired and which was observed with undisguised 
 interest by pretty girls and gracious mammas. 
 Young Struan was shortly to come into a very 
 good property by inheritance from an uncle for 
 whom he had been named ; and, besides this, his 
 family connections were of the best. The father 
 was looked upon in his own family as decidedly 
 erratic, because of his having adopted the career 
 of a musician ; but he had made himself so dis- 
 tinguished in his line that they were all more than 
 willing to acknowledge him now.
 
 STRUAN 199 
 
 The ball was a large and brilliant one. Leon- 
 ard, fresh from Paris, with the garments and man- 
 ners that betokened a thorough usage de monde in 
 spite of his boyishness, with his distinguished 
 height, his reputation as a promising young artist, 
 and with a certain unusualness which came from 
 a controlled discontent with his surroundings, was 
 to many, an interesting figure in the room. 
 
 He danced with each of the beauties, who found 
 his dancing delightful. The bow with which he 
 handed them back to their chaperons was the per- 
 fection of serious good breeding ; and it had in it, 
 moreover, a certain air of finality, due, perhaps, to 
 the fact that in no case did he dance a second 
 time with any one. It was noticed that he talked 
 little. Certainly, he would not have been taken 
 here for the eager, ardent fellow that he was. 
 Once or twice only his set features were seen to 
 break into a smile of light, and then it was when 
 he caught his father's eye resting upon him affec- 
 tionately. 
 
 " Jove ! what a set of brutes, sir ! " Leonard 
 said once, leaving a party of young men with 
 whom he had been talking, and joining his father. 
 " And the girls, too ! They are a set of dressed- 
 up dolls, and seem not to know what ideas mean. 
 If this is society, sir, you need not fear its allure-
 
 200 STRUAN 
 
 ments for me. Give me rather forever the Latin 
 Quarter and the painter beggars and the jolly little 
 French grisettes. It seems to me, by all odds, a 
 worthier life. Or give me, better still, a life in 
 the country, with the power to make pictures ; or, 
 best of all, some long quest of danger and daring 
 for Millicent's sake." 
 
 Struan smiled contentedly. His son's dissatis- 
 faction in these things was joy to his heart. 
 There was a wonderful quality in the man's smile. 
 All the marks of care and pain that were on his 
 face seemed suddenly to disappear, leaving only 
 radiance behind. Surely, if a man could smile 
 like that at ninety, he must still look young. 
 This thought, or something like it, occurred to 
 Leonard as he met that smiling glance. 
 
 " What a thing it is to be your son, sir ! " he 
 said. " The only real pleasure of the evening has 
 been in having my hand wrung now and then by 
 some pleasant old chap who greets me as Lucien 
 Struan's son. Not that I call you old, sir," he 
 added hastily : " any man younger than you 
 seems to me crude and immature ; but, somehow, 
 ail the men who were your college chums and 
 contemporaries seem so much older. Can't we 
 get away from this now, sir, and go somewhere 
 and have a smoke and a talk ? I have so much
 
 STRUAN 201 
 
 to talk over with you that this seems a terrible 
 waste of time." 
 
 They did soon after make their escape, equally 
 pleased to be alone together. It was a comfort to 
 Struan to know that he need have no fear that his 
 son might, as many of his family had done, slip 
 into the life of a social idler. 
 
 The one or two dinners which they took to- 
 gether with Struan's friends were much better than 
 the ball. Leonard was very eager, and anything 
 that deserved the name of life was interesting to 
 him. Most of the men at these dinners had tasted 
 of life deeply in some way or other. There were 
 travellers, scientists, musicians, actors, authors, 
 among them, to whose words the boy listened 
 with an absorption which they found extremely 
 stimulating. Struan noticed a fine respect in 
 Leonard's manner to older men, though he put 
 himself wonderfully on a level with them as an 
 investigator and student of life. And these men 
 themselves spoke and listened to Leonard with an 
 interest and attention no less gratifying to his father. 
 
 In Leonard, at least, Struan was happy. What 
 situation has not its compensations ? From that 
 sad, early marriage had come this wonderful boy. 
 Certainly, that mistake seemed justified by it. 
 But what about the second, greater, more irretriev- 
 able mistake ?
 
 XIV 
 
 ONE morning, on going to his office, Struan 
 found a box awaiting him. It proved to 
 be the present that Leonard had spoken 
 of, which had been detained at the custom-house. 
 Opening the box, Struan took out a rather small 
 canvas, on which was painted a head of Leonard. 
 His face kindled with interest at the first glimpse 
 which he caught. He went to set it against 
 the wall, at the end of the grand piano ; and, as 
 he did so, a bit of paper stuck in the back of the 
 stretcher caught his attention. The words on it 
 
 were : 
 
 Leonard Lucien Struan. 
 Painted for Leonard's father by Millicent Evleth. 
 
 Struan stood some minutes looking at this bit of 
 paper. The handwriting had an individuality that 
 interested him. Presently he propped the picture 
 against the wall, and then seated himself on the 
 music-stool, the piano's length away from it. He 
 looked at it steadily. 
 
 " Oh ! Wonderful ! " he said aloud, with a 
 smile and a toss of the head that conceded the 
 point at once. 
 
 Then he leaned forward, resting his folded arms 
 
 202
 
 STRUAN 203 
 
 upon the keys of the piano, and making a discord 
 of sound. He appeared not to notice it, however, 
 as his gaze grew serious in its concentration on the 
 picture. 
 
 It impressed him in two ways. He was a 
 judge of painting, and he saw that this picture pos- 
 sessed a certain quality which stimulated interest 
 in the painter. What sort of head and hand was 
 it that had produced this unusual effect ? There 
 was fine art here ; and there was more, besides. A 
 disciplined hand had held the brush; but what 
 manner of spirit was it that had put on canvas the 
 mystery of that young face ? Struan gazed on the 
 beloved features till his heart was stirred to tears. 
 
 This was more than a picture of Leonard's 
 features and coloring. It was the picture of his 
 soul, pure, passionate, intense, and waiting to be 
 wrought upon for good or evil. Never had his 
 responsibilities as a father so come home to him. 
 Never had he felt a deeper emotion of thankful- 
 ness than now, at the thought that this woman 
 would be his helper in sending Leonard out to the 
 battle of life equipped with arms and armor. 
 
 Millicent was a wonderful being. He felt this 
 intensely. Without having seen her since she was 
 a passionate, imperious child, he realized her more 
 actually than the women he had known for years.
 
 204 STRUAN 
 
 Her photograph, her writing, her painting, all 
 of these indicated the same remarkable personality. 
 The same impression was stamped on Len himself, 
 in whom his father recognized a subtle change that 
 dated from the beginning of his acquaintance with 
 this woman. The influence of the ideal which 
 she had set up for him could be seen in almost 
 everything that he did. 
 
 Struan rested long in the contemplation of that 
 picture, seeing beyond it into its creator's heart. 
 It fascinated him also because of its unusual 
 method. Evidently, it had been rapid work. It 
 was done with a daring broadness, dashed on with 
 the fire of enthusiastic impulse. At last, roused 
 by the physical discomfort of his arms upon the 
 keys, he moved, making again that discord of 
 sound. It jarred his senses painfully this time; 
 and, to put it quite to flight, he began to play. 
 
 As he played on, a deeper and deeper feeling 
 glowed in his dark eyes. The youthful inspira- 
 tion which had once made him believe that he 
 should one day be a great composer stirred pas- 
 sionately in his heart. He had not known feel- 
 ings such as these for years. He was tasting 
 again, in his matured and saddened manhood, the 
 nectar of youth. The blood beat throbbingly 
 through his veins to his heart. Purposes and as- 
 pirations almost forgotten came flocking back.
 
 STRUAN 205 
 
 What a great man, in every deep and honest 
 sense, he had expected to become ! And what 
 was the indomitable force in his life which had 
 held him back ? There could be no doubt of 
 that. It was the repeated wrong of two mistaken 
 marriages. Other men might carve out their des- 
 tinies independent of the influence of woman ; but 
 not he ! That sympathy, inspiration, companion- 
 ship, was his supreme need. He felt his life 
 crippled because he had it not. He knew that 
 without it he should never realize his best, that 
 without the complement of woman he was imper- 
 fect and inadequate. 
 
 He had stopped playing ; and he leaned some 
 moments with his elbows on the music-rack, and 
 his face hid in his hands. 
 
 He looked up at last, and saw Leonard's beau- 
 tiful, hopeful face confronting him. The comfort 
 of it stole into his heart. He had still one splen- 
 did thing to live for, to help this boy to realize 
 his best, to hold him back from the fatal errors 
 by which he had ruined his own life. If he felt 
 strong to do this and certain of gaining his end, 
 his confidence came not from any power in him- 
 self. It was in his ability to point to the ideal 
 clothed in flesh, the like of which, if he had 
 known, his youth and manhood had been saved 
 alive.
 
 XV 
 
 MISS EVLETH'S object in coming to 
 America was to visit her grandmother, 
 who, after living abroad for some years, 
 had come back to her old country home near New 
 York. 
 
 Millicent's parents were dead ; and the aunt 
 with whom she lived in Paris was her father's sis- 
 ter, while old Mrs. Milner was her grandmother 
 on the maternal side. 
 
 Leonard met his lady at the steamer, and, as he 
 had predicted, took her out of the hands of a score 
 of welcoming friends, and carried her off to him- 
 self. 
 
 It was like bringing fairyland bodily to this 
 nineteenth-century earth, to be driving along the 
 New York streets, over bumping cobble-stones, 
 with Millicent at his side. Her very costume 
 was food for contentment to Leonard. How 
 could anything so simple give such an effect of 
 extraordinary charm ? Her voice, too, after the 
 vibrant twang of some of his recent acquaintances, 
 was a thing to make him close his eyes and rest. 
 It was the same with her accent and utterance ; 
 206
 
 STRUAN 207 
 
 and, as for her smile, when she turned it on him, 
 her eyes made long and shadowy by half-drooped 
 lids, he felt that it was of no use to try not to 
 worship her. Anything short of worship was 
 nonsense. 
 
 She was a good deal exhausted from the voyage, 
 which had been rough ; and an air of physical 
 weariness made her seem gentler than usual. Or- 
 dinarily, her attitude toward the world was one 
 in which there was no danger of self-betrayal. 
 Leonard had seen her many a time without that 
 mask, but he had seen her wear it so uniformly 
 with others that he was well aware of his privi- 
 leges. 
 
 On their way to the country they had a deli- 
 cious talk, which Millicent inaugurated by saying, 
 
 " Well, how's the Prince of Wales ? " 
 
 Leonard glowed with delight at the revival of 
 this old joke. Millicent had long ago applied this 
 title to his father, because of Len's habit of ad- 
 dressing him as " sir." He had a graphic way of 
 repeating his conversations with his father, and 
 the frequent recurrence of this word had amused 
 Millicent at first ; but, when she saw the sort of 
 romantic respect that it rested upon, she declared 
 that she liked it. He never used it to any other 
 man, no matter how much his senior he might be.
 
 io8 STRUAN 
 
 Millicent then proceeded to draw the young 
 fellow out, as she was practised in doing. While 
 she alternately soothed and laughed at him, he de- 
 tailed his grievances concerning the society of 
 which he was supposed to form a part. He 
 ended by declaring that, but for his father, he 
 would pack up his traps and go to Paris, never to 
 return. 
 
 "You would find society there the same," she 
 said, " and, in some senses, worse. Your knowl- 
 edge of Paris is Bohemia. What did you know 
 of the social life ? " 
 
 " I knew you." 
 
 " And I'm an American. Besides that, I'm 
 a Bohemian, too, to those who know me. I'm 
 located by circumstances in society, but those who 
 know me understand that it is not my real ele- 
 ment. Neither is it yours. Our element, yours 
 and mine, is the world, is life, wherever it is 
 honestly expressed ; and life in all places that are 
 acting, growing, and feeling, is about equally inter- 
 esting, I imagine. There must be most interest- 
 ing people in such a great and progressive city as 
 New York, for instance." 
 
 Leonard seemed a little reluctant to admit it. 
 
 " Besides," Millicent went on, " there's your 
 father. There's a great man. He has spent his
 
 STRUAN 209 
 
 life in nourishing and stimulating the weak and 
 timid sentiment for music which this country has, 
 and has accomplished, single-handed, miracles al- 
 most. He has shown himself quite superior alike 
 to disappointments and rewards. You know by 
 hearsay ; but I remember when a brilliant career 
 was offered him abroad, and he would not even 
 consider it, because he felt that his services were 
 owed to his country. It is fine, when you stop to 
 think of it, a thing, I'm pretty sure, he's never 
 done." 
 
 11 How do you know my father so well ? " said 
 Leonard. " It often surprises me." 
 
 " Oh, it's a sort of intuition that I've had about 
 him always ; and then, too, I judge him a little 
 by his son." 
 
 Leonard flushed. 
 
 "Never do that," he said. " I implore you not 
 to. There are two things which make me beside 
 myself with impatience to be and do something 
 good. One is that I am my father's son. The 
 other is that I am your cousin and your friend and 
 your knight." 
 
 Millicent smiled, gently and seriously. She 
 had learned exactly how to control Leonard's 
 ardor about her, when it got beyond discreet limits. 
 She knew now that the boy was in a mood in
 
 2io STRUAN 
 
 which he longed to throw himself at her feet in 
 the carriage, and kiss the soles of her shoes. 
 
 So she broke in on the concentration of his 
 mood by saying seriously : 
 
 u Tell me about your father, Len, and tell me 
 about his wife. I am anxious to have in words 
 the impressions that you could not write. Don't 
 hesitate to speak freely. I am prepared for what 
 you have to say. I know by your very silence 
 that this marriage has been a mistake." 
 
 They had left the city behind them, and were 
 driving on a country road. It was growing late, 
 and the gathering dusk made their faces indistinct 
 to each other. The knowledge of this was a 
 relief to Millicent ; for, as she listened to Leon- 
 ard's brief story, she felt a stronger sense of regret 
 than she was willing to show. 
 
 When Leonard ceased speaking, he waited for 
 her to make some comment. It was several mo- 
 ments before she did so. Then she said : 
 
 " Poor Lucien Struan ! There seems to be a 
 curse attached to qualities such as his. But, if 
 the curse is for him and the greatness is to benefit 
 the world, I imagine he can be content." 
 
 " How well you know him, Millicent ! It's 
 very strange, for he seems in some mysterious 
 way to have the same sort of instinct about you."
 
 STRUAN 211 
 
 At this point the carriage turned into the fa- 
 miliar old entrance to her grandmother's place, 
 which Millicent had not seen for years. Old 
 Mrs. Milner was a relative of Leonard's, also ; 
 and he had arranged with her that he was to 
 bring Millicent out to her. He was a favorite 
 with the old lady, and she had begged him to 
 spend as much of his time as possible with her 
 during her grand-daughter's visit.
 
 XVI 
 
 THE occasion of Struan's first meeting with 
 Millicent was a picture exhibition, at 
 which the works of some young Ameri- 
 can artists studying in Paris were shown. 
 
 It was the day after her arrival that, in fulfil- 
 ment of an agreement made with his son, Struan 
 went to the exhibition rooms to meet Leonard 
 and his fair lady. It made him smile to think of 
 Leonard's excitement in the approaching meeting. 
 He was deeply interested in it himself; but his life 
 was an active and practical one, and just now 
 intensely busy. He had not much time for the 
 dreams in which he had indulged on seeing Milli- 
 cent's photograph and her portrait of Len. The 
 busy life seemed now the real and important one ; 
 the other, impalpable and impractical. 
 
 Struan's work had gone well that morning, and 
 he was feeling and showing that spirit of buoyancy 
 and bonhomie which all the disappointments of his 
 life had not been able to crush out of him. 
 
 Many of the people present were known to 
 him ; and he was stopped, almost before he had 
 crossed the threshold, by the warm greetings of 
 212
 
 STRUAN 213 
 
 friends. It was no wonder they were glad to 
 see him, for he showed such cordial pleasure in 
 meeting them. There were old people, young 
 people, and children among them ; and whenever 
 any one of them said, " There's Mr. Struan ! " 
 there was a ring of genuine feeling in their voices. 
 
 His manner, as he exchanged these greetings, 
 was really that of a happy man. Indeed, there 
 was an element in Struan's nature which made 
 prolonged and unrelieved gloom impossible to 
 him. 
 
 Very soon he caught sight of the pair for whom 
 he was looking. They were easily distinguishable, 
 not only because of Leonard's height, but also by 
 reason of a certain unusualness in the appear- 
 ance of his companion, who also appeared tall, 
 even when standing by Len. Her back was 
 turned ; and her figure, in its foreign-made cos- 
 tume, was distinguished as well as beautiful. 
 Struan's sense of pleasure in this meeting quick- 
 ened as he looked at her. The pair turned and 
 were moving toward him. At the same moment 
 they caught sight of him. 
 
 Struan's face was as eager as Leonard's could 
 have been, as he came up with both hands out- 
 stretched, and took Millicent's in a cordial grasp. 
 Leonard, looking on, grew pale with the emotion 
 of this moment.
 
 214 STRUAN 
 
 " What a joy this is, my dear cousin ! " Struan 
 said. Leonard saw him fix his eyes on her as 
 if his gaze were cleared of every impediment 
 that kept him from seeing straight into her soul. 
 
 As Millicent, smiling, too, returned the greet- 
 ing, Struan's mind was working in a whirl. Had 
 he obeyed the impetuous promptings of his nature, 
 he would have flung his hat up to the ceiling, and 
 given a cry of triumph. 
 
 Leonard listened, wordless, while they talked. 
 
 " I remember," said Struan, holding her eyes 
 with that intense gaze of his which seemed to 
 create for them a world apart, and to shut out, as 
 with an impassable barrier, the world of fashion 
 and convention by which they were actually sur- 
 rounded, " I remember when one of your pet 
 canaries died, and how inconsolable you were 
 because your mother would not allow you to kill 
 its mate to be buried with it. You cried more 
 over the living bird than the dead one, and would 
 not look at it because you felt that it reproached 
 you with its life, and for not using the power you 
 possessed to prevent this separation from its mate." 
 
 " Oh, do you remember that ? " said beautiful 
 Millicent, ardently. " It is one of the most vivid 
 memories of my life. I remember, too, that you 
 were the only person who seemed to understand
 
 STRUAN 2x5 
 
 my feeling, and how passionately grateful I was to 
 you for it. I remember distinctly how you looked 
 in knickerbockers and long, thin, black-stockinged 
 legs, and a stiff white collar turned down outside 
 your jacket." 
 
 " And you ! " exclaimed Struan : " you wore all- 
 over white pinafores and what was called a < round 
 comb,' which was continually getting awry be- 
 cause of the impetuosity of your movements." 
 
 " Ah," she said gravely, " surely you and I are 
 not that boy and girl ! I often wonder in what 
 respect we are the same as our childish selves. 
 Scientists tell us that our bodies are completely 
 changed every seven years ; and, certainly, our 
 minds and our consciousness are in no way the 
 same. With body, soul, and spirit utterly differ- 
 ent, there can be no identity except what memory 
 gives." 
 
 " There you are wrong, I think," said Struan, 
 eagerly. " Identity is a subtler and stronger thing 
 than any of these, and we are the essential evolu- 
 tion of that identical self. I am absolutely certain 
 that you to-day are the true development of that 
 little girl whose heart ached so to separate the 
 mated birds. That self is the same, in an ex- 
 panded and matured form, which would influence 
 you now."
 
 216 STRUAN 
 
 " Ah, yes ! perhaps so," she said with a little 
 sigh ; and then she caught sight of some object in 
 the distance that made her start, looking suddenly 
 excited. 
 
 " I think," she said eagerly, " that I recognize 
 some one I have not seen for years, some one 
 I am most anxious to see again. Oh, it is ! " 
 And she walked hastily across the room toward 
 a richly dressed woman with a dark, cold face, 
 who stood looking up at a picture. 
 
 At the sound of some words from Millicent, 
 she turned. 
 
 Struan and Leonard, watching them, saw Milli- 
 cent take both her hands and hold them, while the 
 two women looked into each other's eyes, talking 
 earnestly. Millicent's face was full of an ab- 
 sorbed purpose. The face of the other woman 
 expressed wonder more than any warmer feeling. 
 In a moment Millicent took leave of her com- 
 panion with an affectionate smile, which the other 
 returned in a half-doubting way. 
 
 When Millicent rejoined them, her manner 
 seemed a little preoccupied, as if from her late 
 interview; and nothing more pressing seemed to 
 present itself than to walk around and look at the 
 pictures. 
 
 Presently Struan spoke to her of her head of
 
 STRUAN 217 
 
 Leonard, and his enthusiasm gave her an evident 
 delight that he thought argued a somewhat ex- 
 traordinary humility. 
 
 " Do you really like it so much ? " she said in 
 her rich, low-toned voice, which differed from some 
 of the voices around them as the sound of whis- 
 pering leaves differs from the croaking of a tree- 
 frog near by. " Oh, I should like you to like my 
 work ! And I should like, if you could spare the 
 time, to do a head of you ! " 
 
 " Spare the time ? I should rather think so ! 
 Only it will have to be after the musical festival is 
 over. You have not heard of that scheme of 
 mine, perhaps, though you knew did you not ? 
 that I was a professional musician." 
 
 "Ask Leonard about that. He will tell you 
 with what pride I have followed your career. 
 You've been very brave to hold out as you have. 
 I've watched for many years to see if you would 
 give up and own yourself conquered. It's been 
 help and strength to me that you did not." 
 
 "You should have given me the help and 
 strength of knowing that you watched and cared," 
 said Struan. 
 
 " As if you needed help from any ! " she said 
 with a gently mocking smile. 
 
 And, in truth, her feeling about Struan was
 
 2i8 STRUAN 
 
 pre-eminent, for the very reason that she felt him 
 so strong in himself as not to need the helps that 
 other men required, when, in point of fact, per- 
 haps no man she knew was as dependent as this 
 one on a certain kind of help that which the 
 manly asks of the womanly. 
 
 He did not answer her in words, but there was 
 a denial in his look. 
 
 Presently he said : 
 
 " It seems rather strange that, in my various 
 visits to Europe, I have always missed you. How 
 long is it since you were in America ? " 
 
 " Twenty years ; and then / missed you" 
 
 Struan smiled. 
 
 " It seems impossible, when one looks at you, 
 that you can say ' twenty years ' so lightly," he 
 said. 
 
 " Sometimes I say it rather heavily. It seems 
 a long, long while since I was young in the 
 way Len is young, I mean ; for in some things 
 my feelings seem to freshen. You remember, 
 perhaps, that there is a difference of just three 
 years in our ages." 
 
 " You are really forty ? " said Struan, half un- 
 believingly. 
 
 " Yes, really forty," she answered, " and not at 
 all sorry to be so. I don't care much for youth.
 
 STRUAN 219 
 
 I make the one exception of Leonard, and I think 
 it is because he has so much unyouthfulness in 
 him that I find him so congenial. The quality of 
 youth is pleasing to me, as a rule, only in children. 
 Grown-up young folks possess it so much more 
 imperfectly; and, at the same time, they lack the 
 strong charm of experience and maturity. Given 
 an inexperienced, unthinking human being, I cer- 
 tainly prefer it in the form of a child." 
 
 While she spoke, Struan looked at her thought- 
 fully. Her face had undoubtedly lost something, 
 both in color and outline, of the charm of mere 
 youth ; but her skin had the purity of perfect 
 health, and time had done its work on the features 
 with a gracious, even a glorifying, hand. She 
 could not possibly have been so beautiful at 
 twenty as she was now at least, not to eyes 
 that saw beauty as did Struan's. And with Leon- 
 ard it was just the same. It was the thought and 
 feeling and experience which the boy had found 
 in Millicent's face which had given him his fine 
 scorn of the most blooming bud that the ranks of 
 society had made known to him. 
 
 A little later, Millicent's attention being claimed 
 by some acquaintances, Struan and Leonard had 
 an opportunity to speak of her. Some of the 
 crowd that passed commented upon the absorbed
 
 220 STRUAN 
 
 talk of the father and son. Could that talk have 
 been overheard it might have caused some com- 
 ment that here, in this nineteenth-century time 
 and place, were two men of far different ages who 
 spoke with an admiration that was in great part 
 reverence of a modern woman who wore fashion- 
 able clothes, lived in the thick of the world, not 
 claiming any apartness from it, and yet so lived as 
 to have inspired in these two modern men the 
 same impulse to do great deeds and live great 
 lives as the ladies of old had inspired in their 
 knights. The tasks were greater because the 
 conditions were more difficult, but the mind and 
 heart of the woman were well adjusted to them.
 
 XVII 
 
 IN the deepening sweetness of the mild spring 
 afternoon Struan found himself seated at 
 Millicent's side in the carriage which was to 
 take them back to Mrs. Milner's. It was a vic- 
 toria ; and Leonard, who had come in with Milli- 
 cent, insisted on giving his seat to his father, and 
 going out by train. It was a drive of eight or nine 
 miles ; and, under the conduct of Mrs. Milner's 
 old coachman and his fat horses, there was the 
 prospect of a long talk. Struan had made his ar- 
 rangement to spend the night, and go into town 
 by an early train next morning. 
 
 During their drive through town they were 
 more or less engrossed in bowing to acquaintances 
 and in discussing the pictures they had seen ; but, 
 when they were on the country road, Millicent, 
 with a change of tone, said abruptly : 
 
 u Did you notice that handsome woman whom 
 I spoke to at the gallery ? " 
 
 Struan answered that he had. 
 
 " Do you know anything of her ? Had you 
 ever seen her before ? " 
 
 " Nothing whatever. Never," he said, answer 
 ing both questions. 
 
 221
 
 222 STRUAN 
 
 " I am deeply interested to know what her life 
 is now," said Millicent, " or, rather, what her heart 
 and soul are. I fear I know all too well about 
 her life." She paused a moment, and then, in 
 answer to Struan's look of interest, went on : "I 
 knew her very well as a young girl. Circum- 
 stances threw us together, and she impulsively 
 took me into her confidence. She was a foreigner, 
 with a reckless, intriguing, card-playing father, a 
 spendthrift nobleman, who did not hesitate to throw 
 her into positions of great danger. At last he 
 died, and she wanted to go on the stage. I tried 
 to hold her back, for I knew the life would only 
 add to the dangers of her position. She went off 
 to study for the stage, however ; and I did what I 
 could to introduce her to people who would hold 
 her up to her best, and for a while her letters to 
 me were most satisfactory. Then came months 
 of silence, and all my letters remained unanswered. 
 At last she wrote me not to trouble myself any 
 more about her, as she was unworthy of my confi- 
 dence and affection, and preferred neither to write 
 nor hear from me again. She returned the money 
 I had lent her, and said she was going away, and 
 that letters would not be forwarded. She ended 
 by saying that, the sooner I put her out of my 
 mind, the better it would be for me. I could not
 
 STRUAN 223 
 
 do this, but my inquiries only resulted in some 
 vague rumors of her ruving been seen in New 
 York under circumstances which confirmed my 
 fears. I have always clung to the belief, however, 
 that I should see and talk to her again. What 
 hurt me most was her belief that I would give her 
 up when I knew what she had done. There was 
 much good in her, and I have often suffered at the 
 thought of how unendurable she must find the life 
 she had gone into." 
 
 " Have you any reason to suppose that she has 
 abandoned that way of living ? " Struan asked. 
 
 " Ah, no ! I wish I had," said Millicent, sadly. 
 
 " But, Millicent," he said with a sort of breath- 
 less eagerness, " when you stood talking to her 
 and holding her hands to-day, did you realize that 
 she might be well known in New York, that you 
 had friends present in whose eyes you might be 
 compromising yourself seriously ? " 
 
 " And do you think that for that, for the sake 
 of such people as those who would condemn me 
 for that act, I would have kept away from that 
 poor woman, with her unhappy face, whom I 
 might perhaps help ? My one chance of chang- 
 ing her is to treat her with affection and respect. 
 Whatever her life may be, there is something in 
 her still which deserves this from me, if not in
 
 224 STRUAN 
 
 her, in myself. I have taken her address, and am 
 going to see her to-morrow. Perhaps I can re- 
 claim her. At least, I can give her sympathy and 
 love. And so you thought," she went on, look- 
 ing at him with a sad surprise, " that I would let 
 go this long-wished-for chance of helping her, for 
 the sake of not compromising myself in the eyes 
 of society, some of the members of which are 
 probably responsible for her being what she is ! 
 Is it possible that you, Leonard's father, thought 
 that of me ? " 
 
 " No, not of you, Millicent, not of you ! But 
 do you know it ? absolutely and without ex- 
 ception of every other woman of your class that I 
 have known ! Imagine, then, what it must be to 
 me, on the long way of life, to have come to you 
 at last. We have met late, but I will not say too 
 late. Half my working, striving, doing life is 
 ahead of me yet, in all likelihood ; and the knowl- 
 edge that you exist in the world will strengthen 
 me for it. Thank God, you have come to Leon- 
 ard in full time ! He will have no wasted, weak- 
 ened years to look back upon, as I have. You 
 will be my helper, Millicent, in making that glori- 
 ous boy the man I might have been." 
 
 Millicent did not answer at once. Presently 
 she said :
 
 STRUAN 225 
 
 " To help Len is one of the things that I live 
 for, but whether he has it in him to become the 
 man you are remains to be seen. I must say 
 this to you, Lucien, to be honest. Don't think I 
 flatter you. You've had enough flattery to know 
 that this is not. Let me speak to you freely once, 
 and tell you that, even before my wish to be of 
 help and comfort to Len, comes the thought of 
 you. Until I saw you, though, I never ventured 
 to hope I could be anything to you." 
 
 " You shall see whether you can or not ! " he 
 said as they reached the entrance to the grounds ; 
 and, after a moment of silence between them, the 
 carriage drew up at the door. 
 
 Leonard, who was watching for them, ran ea- 
 gerly down the steps to help his dear lady to alight. 
 As her slim foot touched the ground, he thought 
 with envy of Sir Walter Raleigh, and regretted, as 
 Millicent had often caused him to regret before, 
 that the age of chivalry was past. He felt, how- 
 ever, that it still existed in the hearts of men, so 
 long, at least, as Millicent was in the world. 
 
 That evening the three friends Millicent, 
 Struan, and Leonard had a wonderful talk, last- 
 ing far into the night. The old grandmother, who 
 let nothing interfere with her early hours, went to 
 bed. Surely, that pretty, quaint, old-fashioned
 
 226 STRUAN 
 
 drawing-room had not often looked upon such 
 people or such talk as this. The trio seemed to 
 realize that ideal of friendship which, as some 
 writer has said, " consists in much agreement, 
 much disagreement, and an affection greater than 
 either." 
 
 They discussed the points on which they dis- 
 agreed, Leonard giving his opinions as freely as 
 his elders. There was much joy in finding that 
 there were some subjects they all agreed upon, 
 though some of these were the very ones as to 
 which the world about them protested. 
 
 Millicent had a power of doing away with su- 
 perficial conventions that was a marvellous help 
 to the touching of minds and meeting of spirits. 
 There was almost no topic which, treated with 
 delicacy, was forbidden to her ; and she had a free 
 and natural way of touching upon and even look- 
 ing deep into subjects generally supposed to be, 
 though in reality not beyond, the range of woman's 
 conjecture or contemplation. She called Struan 
 by his first name as simply as though they had 
 been still childish playmates. She could not have 
 known how pleasing this was to him, and still less 
 did it occur to her that no woman dear to him had 
 done it since his childhood. He had had no sis- 
 ters. Leonard's mother had always addressed him
 
 STRUAN 227 
 
 as " Mr. Struan " ; and with men, as well as with 
 Jenny, the surname which he had made distin- 
 guished was generally applied to him. 
 
 When the two men had said good-night, and 
 were having a few final words together in their 
 rooms, Struan said : 
 
 " She gives me a certain feeling which I have 
 had from but one source in my life before. I 
 had it first when gazing at the thrilling, uplifting 
 figure of the Winged Victory in the Louvre, a 
 great woman-creature striding forward, invincibly, 
 through the trammels and barriers of life, opening 
 a way for poor humanity to walk in, while all the 
 time her splendid wings are spread as if to lift her 
 to her natural sphere, a higher element which the 
 resting of her feet on earth makes possible for 
 other beings to attain to also." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! Millicent is just like that," said 
 Leonard. " And there is a poem of Matthew 
 Arnold's called ' Urania ' that is her very self. 
 Listen : 
 
 " She smiles and smiles, and will not sigh, 
 While we for hopeless passion die. 
 Yet she could love, those eyes declare, 
 Were but men nobler than they are." 
 
 " Beautiful ! " said Struan. " Well, Leonard, 
 my boy, when I think that this is the being out of
 
 228 STRUAN 
 
 all the world whom you've chosen for your friend, 
 I honor you ; and, when I see that you have won 
 her affection and friendship, I honor you more. 
 Life seems the better because she lives, and hu- 
 manity the higher because she is human. Good- 
 night, my son j and God bless you and her."
 
 XVIII 
 
 IT was an exceptionally busy time with 
 Struan ; and, on reaching his office next 
 morning, he plunged into hard work. 
 This work was of so absorbing a nature that it 
 occupied every faculty of mind and body. 
 
 Leonard had accepted an invitation to spend 
 several days with Mrs. Milner, so in the late 
 afternoon Struan took the train for home alone. 
 
 It was only when he was whirling along, his 
 eyes fixed on the moving landscape outside, that he 
 could deliberately give himself up to the thought 
 aroused in him by this meeting with Millicent. 
 
 Truly, these thoughts were inspiring ones. In 
 spite of all it was a delight to live. The relations 
 of men and women seemed to him ennobled and 
 beautified inexpressibly by his knowledge and rec- 
 ognition of Millicent. The opportunities of life 
 seemed magnificent. He was glad to be part of a 
 system which included such possibilities. 
 
 He thought, with a great tenderness, of Jenny, 
 but he no longer deceived himself. He was not 
 angry or even discontented with her. He recog- 
 nized the fact that one must not expect to get out 
 229
 
 2 3 o STRUAN 
 
 of people what is not in them, and he had only 
 himself to blame. 
 
 His own life it was best to face the fact 
 squarely had been permanently crippled and sad- 
 dened by his own act twice committed. What a 
 coward he had been, what a weakling, not to wait 
 for the best, the complete ! And what patience 
 and courage had Millicent shown ! What a power 
 of renunciation and power of hope at once ! 
 
 He knew that it had cost Millicent something 
 to forego the temporary consolation which would 
 have come from a compromise in love. He hon- 
 ored her deeply for the clear vision that had en- 
 abled her to keep her mind fixed on the end. 
 That vision must have warned her, as it had 
 many a time warned him, that misery must be the 
 result of compromise. She had been strong enough 
 to put down the demands of soul and sense as 
 enemies that must be crushed, but he had not. 
 He had let them master him, and had accepted 
 miserably less than he had dreamed. The self- 
 abasement which he suffered now seemed to him 
 only a reasonable punishment. He had caught 
 sight over an impregnable wall of a garden of de- 
 light into which he might not enter, no, not so 
 much as to set his foot upon it ; and the one 
 worthy impulse which his heart felt now was to 
 live faithfully the half-life which remained to him.
 
 STRUAN 
 
 Prompted by an impulse of renewed affection 
 and kindness for Jenny, he had stopped on his 
 way to the train, and bought her a dainty jewelled 
 comb for her hair. For some reason, all his dem- 
 onstrations of fondness for Jenny now took the 
 form of presents, probably because it was in this 
 way that he was surest of pleasing her. 
 
 When he reached the house, full of his re- 
 vitalized purpose to be good and loving to Jenny, 
 he found her bending over the table, writing a let- 
 ter. She looked up at his entrance, and said ani- 
 matedly : 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad you've come ! I'm writing 
 this because I felt so impatient ; but, of course, I 
 meant to consult you before feeling that the mat- 
 ter was decided." 
 
 " What is it ? " said Struan, taking her upturned 
 chin in the hollow of his hand, and looking down 
 at her with a grave kindness that had something 
 inscrutable in it, which she was too self-absorbed 
 to notice. Endearments and caresses were some- 
 what rare between them now, and the approaches 
 always came from Struan's side ; for one of the 
 surprises of his marriage was that Jenny was un- 
 affectionate, in spite of all her fiery feeling. 
 
 " Why, of course," began Jenny, a little con- 
 fusedly, " it's pretty sudden, and all that ; but it's
 
 232 STRUAN 
 
 such a splendid chance to go with Ida. She's go- 
 ing West to visit some relatives ; and, as I haven't 
 seen them all at home for so long, I thought 
 O Struan, I do hope you'll be willing for me to 
 go with her ! " 
 
 She spoke with an eagerness which made him 
 think with compunction of her loneliness, so he 
 said at once : 
 
 " Of course there's no reason why you shouldn't 
 go if you want to. You must need a change, poor 
 little dear ! How soon should you want to leave ? 
 Directly after the musical festival ? " 
 
 Jenny looked a little disconcerted. 
 
 " Why, as soon as I could," she said. " The 
 fact is, if I am going to take advantage of this 
 splendid chance to go with Ida, I should have to 
 go before the festival ; for Ida can't wait a day 
 later than Thursday. I'd like to hear the festi- 
 val, of course, and see what success you have ; but, 
 really, it's so certain to succeed that I wouldn't be 
 bothered at all as to that, and you know the music 
 is too classical for me. I'd have to do a lot of 
 pretending to make believe I enjoyed it. If you 
 really wouldn't mind, I'd like to start with Ida on 
 Thursday. I thought about begging her to wait 
 for me till after the festival, but it would put her 
 out too much. We have been talking it over this
 
 STRUAN 233 
 
 afternoon, and I was only waiting to see what you 
 would say. I promised to run over and tell her 
 what we decided." 
 
 " Oh, tell her you'll go, by all means," said 
 Struan. "As you say, the festival's all right; and 
 you needn't bother about that. I don't see the 
 least reason why you should not go on Thursday 
 if you want to. You might run across now, and 
 tell Ida. I know you are both eager to have it 
 settled. Here's something pretty for you to take 
 with you to show her." 
 
 He took the little pink satin box from his 
 pocket, and gave it to her. She opened it with 
 eagerness ; and, when she saw the jewelled comb, 
 she gave him a rough little hug, and said he was 
 a perfect old dear. Then she darted through the 
 low window, and down the gravelled walk, run- 
 ning like a child. 
 
 Struan stood and watched her. Ida was on her 
 porch ; and, as soon as Jenny caught sight of her 
 there, she waved her little handkerchief high above 
 her head in triumphant glee. 
 
 He felt bitter in his heart. He was not only 
 willing, but determined to sacrifice his future to 
 this childish creature ; but there was something in 
 it all that made the sacrifice seem useless. He 
 told himself that it was only natural that she
 
 234 STRUAN 
 
 should wish to go to her old home, and to have 
 a little variety in her dull life. Yet, natural as it 
 was, it hurt him to see her eagerness to leave him, 
 her lack of interest in his festival, and her frank 
 distaste of the music which was almost a religion 
 with him. He felt a deep apprehension that the 
 difference in their tastes, as well as their ages, 
 would constitute a barrier which time would only 
 widen. Jenny's interests and mental pursuits were 
 the toys of his childhood. It was not to be won- 
 dered at if his seemed to her the dull resources of 
 age. A mood of deep sadness oppressed him, the 
 heaviest part of it being his fear that he should not 
 be able to make Jenny happy. If this should be 
 so, what compensation was there for the sacrifices 
 of his life ? What atonement could he make for 
 the wrongs done to himself and to others ? 
 
 How suddenly things had changed for him ! 
 Last night he had felt, in body and in mind, a 
 youthfulness and vigor stronger than any feeling 
 of his early years. To-night he felt crippled, sad- 
 dened, old. It was the effect of being with Milli- 
 cent, in one instance, and being with Jenny in the 
 other. He did not say it or think it, but so it 
 was. 
 
 When the moment of parting with Jenny came, 
 Struan found himself profoundly moved. To ful-
 
 STRUAN 235 
 
 fil to the letter every detail of his obligation to his 
 young wife was now the strongest demand which 
 he felt upon his life. 
 
 This man's need of affection was so great that, 
 had Jenny given it to him abundantly and freely, 
 it would have gone far toward compensating for 
 her failure in other ways. But Jenny was not by 
 nature either tender or affectionate. She was ar- 
 dent, passionate, strong, and brave ; but she had 
 little in her composition of what is called the 
 womanly. Struan, on the contrary, had much of 
 it in his. 
 
 Up to the very last moment she was bustling 
 about her preparations, and dividing her attentions 
 equally between a lunch-basket filled with dainty 
 food and a dressing-bag filled with dainty imple- 
 ments. The last had been a present from Struan, 
 and the sight of it had moved her more than his 
 parting kiss. 
 
 Never had Struan felt the void in his life greater 
 than when Jenny left him alone, but never had he 
 felt more determined to do faithfully the work 
 which his impaired powers left still possible to 
 him. Many a man before him, he told himself, 
 having lost his right arm, had trained and devel- 
 oped the left one to do the work of two. So 
 strong was he in the conviction that it is not good
 
 236 STRUAN 
 
 for man to live alone that he believed it not pos- 
 sible for man so living to be man complete. And 
 to him the loneliness that came from lack of sym- 
 pathy in mind and soul was far deeper than mere 
 bodily loneliness. 
 
 When it became known that Jenny had gone 
 West to visit her relatives, Mrs. Milner insisted 
 that Struan should join the party at her house. 
 Her invitations to Jenny had always been declined. 
 So the day before the beginning of the musical 
 festival, Struan established himself at the sweet 
 old country place, Millicent and Leonard being 
 the only other guests.
 
 XIX 
 
 IT was a noble band of music-makers which 
 Struan's labors had got together for the fes- 
 tival j and at the opening performance the 
 great music hall, so associated with his early ac- 
 quaintance with Jenny, was filled by an apprecia- 
 tive audience. 
 
 A special box had been set apart for Millicent 
 and Leonard ; and, as Struan came out and took his 
 place on the director's stand, he glanced toward it. 
 The glance was grave and swift, for he was neces- 
 sarily preoccupied by the importance and respon- 
 sibility of the moment ; but it was enough to 
 stimulate his spirit and fortify his heart. 
 
 As for Millicent and Leonard, their pulses 
 leaped. They were in absolute sympathy at this 
 moment ; and to be seated there together, feeling, 
 in company with the thousands around them, the 
 thrill of a vast and deep emotion of pleasure 
 which had its source in the being so dear to them, 
 was an almost perfect joy. 
 
 As Struan's arm swayed gently, and by move- 
 ments of his head and eyes he controlled that 
 mighty rush of sound, violins, bass-viols, drums, 
 
 2 37
 
 238 STRUAN 
 
 organ, and a score more of instruments, all 
 sounding or silent at his bidding, he seemed the 
 life at the centre of that great harmony ; and each 
 of these three beings Millicent, Leonard, and 
 Struan felt themselves one of a threefold cord, 
 not to be easily broken. 
 
 Far from feeling apart from Struan, as poor 
 little Jenny had done, Millicent and Leonard had 
 a feeling of intimate nearness to him, a certainty 
 of kinship which made them feel apart from the 
 great audience, because they were one with him. 
 
 When the morning performance was over, and 
 Struan, in the midst of a tumult of enthusiasm 
 from the audience, came to the box to fetch his 
 son and his cousin, they were three very happy 
 beings, although each was conscious that the vig- 
 orous root of joy in their hearts was planted in 
 pain. But perhaps, for that very reason, the pres- 
 ent hour was the sweeter. 
 
 All the way through the lobbies, down the 
 steps, and even as they drove along Fifth Avenue 
 in their open carriage, people at right and left 
 were waving, bowing, and smiling their greetings 
 to Struan in ardent tribute to his now certain 
 success. 
 
 And Struan, with Millicent at his side and 
 Leonard opposite, looked, as he was, a glowing,
 
 STRUAN 239 
 
 genial, happy-hearted man, with the very fire of 
 inspiration in his face. 
 
 Long ago these three friends and comrades had 
 made their plans for the spending of this day. 
 They agreed, before the receipt of the invitations 
 from friends which afterward came, that they 
 would each bind themselves by a positive engage- 
 ment with the other two to lunch together at 
 Delmonico's. 
 
 They were a noticeable trio as they entered and 
 took their places at the small table which Struan 
 had reserved. Any one of the three would have 
 attracted attention, and rewarded it. Struan, ex- 
 hilarated by his recent triumph and his present 
 companionship, was looking nobly impressive as 
 he bowed here and there to acquaintances in the 
 crowd, through which a little murmur of excite- 
 ment had passed when the hero of the hour was 
 recognized. Then came Millicent, distinguished 
 and beautiful, in the smartest of her French spring 
 toilets, making no effort to disguise, by a conven- 
 tional composure, the expression of the ardor in 
 her heart. Then followed Leonard, tall, straight- 
 limbed, clear-featured, his face ruddy, his eyes 
 sparkling with the physical and spiritual well-being 
 of youthful impulsiveness and strength. 
 
 When they reached the table to which the
 
 2 4 o STRUAN 
 
 waiter conducted them, paying Struan compli- 
 ments in felicitous French as he went along, they 
 found it profusely decorated with roses. Struan 
 said there must be some mistake ; but the man 
 protested, with more compliments, that they had 
 been sent by some unknown friends who had 
 learned that he was to take his luncheon there. 
 
 Struan was not a man to resent as familiarity 
 an expression of good will from any being alive, 
 and so he responded cordially to the man's felicita- 
 tions as the party took their seats. He placed 
 himself opposite Millicent, who had quietly taken 
 note of the fact that every man and woman in the 
 room, with a greater or less indifference to appear- 
 ances, was trying to get sight of their party. 
 Struan, looking at her with his smile, which, when 
 free from care, had a peculiar radiance in it, said 
 in a low tone : 
 
 " I see one or two dear old fellows who are 
 longing to come and shake my hand, but are 
 intimidated by the sight of you. Would you 
 mind it ? Would you let me introduce them to 
 you, or are you afraid of its making you con- 
 spicuous ? They are all more or less Bohemians, 
 ind somewhat unaccountable in their talk, espe- 
 cially when their souls are full of music ; but 
 they're"
 
 STRUAN 241 
 
 " Oh, don't make excuses for your friends to 
 me," said Millicent. " The sooner you find out 
 how unconventional I am, the better. You don't 
 dream of the lengths of it yet. I feel almost irre- 
 sistibly impelled to wring the hand of that dear 
 waiter who said such pretty things to you, and to 
 scatter handfuls of rose-leaves over him." 
 
 A moment later a tall, stoop-shouldered old 
 man, with scraggy features, bald head, and pierc- 
 ingly brilliant eyes, came over to them in response 
 to a nod of encouragement from Struan, and, as 
 the latter rose to meet him, threw his arms in 
 foreign fashion round him, and gave him a cordial 
 hug, at the same time pouring out enthusiastic 
 congratulations in a French which had a foreign 
 accent. 
 
 Millicent recognized this accent ; and, when 
 Struan introduced the old man to Leonard and 
 herself, she addressed him cordially in Italian. 
 How his face glowed ! With delighted hurry he 
 began to talk to her, while Struan turned to wel- 
 come some one else. 
 
 In this way ten or fifteen strangers were intro- 
 duced to Millicent ; and, by twos and threes, they 
 lingered to talk. Certainly, this elegant woman, 
 with her grande dame appearance and delicate 
 purity of accent, showed herself as easy and com-
 
 242 STRUAN 
 
 panionable to this set of artists, actors, musicians, 
 as she had ever been in her life. Struan was 
 astonished and greatly delighted. Her freedom 
 from false scruples was a bewitching trait in her, 
 which he saw now for the first time. He remem- 
 bered how his first wife had declined to know 
 these professional friends of his, and how cold and 
 stiff her manner had always been, if forced into 
 even the most casual contact with them. Jenny, it 
 is true, was different ; but, then, poor little Jenny, 
 how out of her sphere she would have felt herself 
 with Millicent ! The certainty of that fact had 
 caused him to humor her in her disinclination to 
 meet Millicent. 
 
 When their friends had considerately left them 
 to eat their lunch, Millicent, drawing the long 
 gloves off her firmly moulded hands, said gayly : 
 
 " All things have their compensations, have 
 they not ? When I think that I have passed the 
 time that I need to be protected by a chaperon, it 
 makes up for many of the frivolous delights of 
 youth. How a severe and proper elderly lady 
 would be in our way to-day ! I don't want to 
 discourage Len ; but I think, on the whole, I 
 prefer the advantages of maturity and advancing 
 life to those of youth. You needn't mind it, Len, 
 however ; for you have our pleasures to look for-
 
 STRUAN 243 
 
 ward to, while we, alas ! have yours to look back 
 upon." 
 
 " Do you know," said Struan, looking across 
 the table at her over the glass of wine which he 
 was sipping with enjoyment, " I can't get over the 
 wonder and delight of finding you so unconven- 
 tional as you are." 
 
 u I told you, Father ! " Len exclaimed, half re- 
 proachfully, as if it might be thought that he had 
 been remiss. 
 
 " But I really failed to take it in. What a com- 
 panion it makes you, Millicent ! What a power 
 of sympathy it gives ! " 
 
 " There are two kinds of unconventionally," 
 said Millicent, smiling. " I think the choice as to 
 that is something like the choice between good 
 and evil, one must know both, in order to make 
 one's choice of one and rejection of the other of 
 any avail. So I think it is well to know both 
 conventionality and unconventionality, and it is 
 the knowledge of both and the choice of the latter 
 which I like. We can all recall instances of 
 people who, having no knowledge of the conven- 
 tional, riot in a freedom from restraint which 
 makes them the most obnoxious of mortals." 
 
 They talked on, going lightly from one topic to 
 another, until the pleasant meal was ended. It
 
 244 STRUAN 
 
 was a delightful hour to them all. The sense of 
 companionship was one source of their pleasure, 
 the success of the festival was another. The good 
 music had exhilarated their souls as the good food 
 and wine had their bodies, and to Millicent and 
 Leonard at least there was a delicious stimulus in 
 the knowledge of the admiring eyes and enthu- 
 siastic comments which they knew to be tributes 
 to their companion rather than to themselves. 
 And to Struan, also, every sign of cordiality of 
 feeling was precious. 
 
 As they took their way out of the crowded 
 restaurant, the pleasure of the present was so 
 predominating that each of the three had put 
 away, for the time, every trouble they had in the 
 world.
 
 XX 
 
 THE musical festival went on to a trium- 
 phant close, and ended a success in every 
 sense for Struan. He was a good deal 
 overworked ; and he was now to take a week's 
 complete holiday, which he was to spend in the 
 country, at Mrs. Milner's, where Milicent was to 
 do his portrait. 
 
 Poor Leonard, for his part, was forced to tear 
 himself away. He was under an engagement to 
 go to see his mother's sister, the aunt who had 
 done what she could to take a mother's place to 
 him in his childhood. Millicent knew this visit 
 was a trial to Len. He did not pretend to any- 
 thing beyond the affection of gratitude to this 
 aunt, but to that he felt bound to be loyal. 
 
 Millicent and Leonard were standing together 
 in Mrs. Milner's drawing-room, saying good-by 
 before their brief separation. She had been look- 
 ing at him so fixedly for a moment that he asked 
 what she was thinking of. 
 
 " I was thinking that my knight is very true 
 and strong," she said, " and that, if he likes, he 
 
 245
 
 246 STRUAN 
 
 may kiss his lady's hand before he goes forth to 
 this noble deed." 
 
 "Ah, Millicent ! " he cried, tumbling down on 
 his knees before her, and covering both her hands 
 with kisses, in a sudden rapture of emotion. 
 " You must live to see me do something really 
 worthy. I long to have you set me some great 
 task, that I may start out, if it took years of my 
 life, and do it." 
 
 Millicent bent for just a second, and brushed his 
 curls lightly with her lips. Then, using all the 
 force of her strong wrists, she pulled him rather 
 suddenly to his feet. From the time that she 
 had first made acquaintance with this ardent boy, 
 and realized the rare sympathy between her nature 
 and his, she had kept her finger on the pulse of 
 his emotions, and had never failed to give them 
 a sudden check when she saw that there was dan- 
 ger of his crossing the limit which she had set for 
 their relations to each other. 
 
 The next morning the sittings for the portrait 
 began. Millicent, who had few resources in her 
 present life, had amused herself by fitting up an 
 impromptu studio in the top of the house. Here 
 she worked for a part of every day. Of course 
 there were visits to be made and invitations to be 
 accepted ; but she had very little inclination to go
 
 STRUAN 247 
 
 into society, and was not sorry that the coming 
 of spring had made social demands upon her com- 
 paratively slight. 
 
 It was a pretty, quaint old room that she had 
 transformed into an atelier ; and, besides all her 
 paints and canvases and artist's properties, there 
 were numberless pretty Eastern stuffs scattered 
 about, and even some of Millicent's gayly colored 
 opera cloaks and gowns. On a table a great 
 collection of photographs were heaped, together 
 with foreign and American novels, magazines, 
 and papers. There was a comfortable old lounge, 
 and some pleasant, restful chairs ; and altogether, 
 the room had a look of unusual grace and com- 
 fort. 
 
 " What a charming place ! " said Struan, glan- 
 cing about him. " I've sat for my portrait several 
 times before, but it's the first time that I ever 
 looked forward to the ordeal with pleasure." 
 
 The emotion he spoke of was written very 
 plainly on his face, and Millicent's reflected it. 
 She was moving about with quick and animated 
 motions, and showed by every sign her interest 
 in the work that she had undertaken. 
 
 " My fingers tingle to begin," she said. " You 
 shall make yourself perfectly comfy, and take as 
 easy a position as you choose. I am a beautiful
 
 248 STRUAN 
 
 painter to sit to. Every one says I am. I'll let 
 you talk as much as you like." 
 
 She ran to a peg on the wall, and took down a 
 large linen apron, streaked and splashed with paint. 
 This she slipped on over her little morning gown, 
 reaching her arms upward to button it at the back 
 of her neck. It was wonderfully transforming, 
 and gave her a look of childishness very unlike 
 her usual self. Then, with movements full of 
 energy, she came back to the table in the centre 
 of the room, took up her palette, and poured over 
 it a thick liquid from a small bottle. 
 
 " I must take every precaution to have my 
 colors clean," she said, her utterance obstructed 
 by the fact that she held the cork she had taken 
 from the bottle between her teeth. " This palette 
 is supposed to have been cleaned already, but I 
 can't trust any one for that except myself." 
 
 Struan came quickly and offered to help her, 
 protesting about the cork. 
 
 " Oh, I love it," she said, as she screwed it back 
 into the bottle with a twist of her strong teeth. 
 " It's my favorite perfume." She had taken up 
 a rag, and was rubbing away with a will at the 
 many-tinted surface of the palette. " Now," she 
 said with satisfaction, " I must lay my colors 
 before I begin to draw, for I get so impatient to
 
 STRUAN 249 
 
 get on. Oh, this is delicious ! " she exclaimed de- 
 lightedly. " I'm very happy, do you know ? " 
 
 She was not looking at him as she spoke, but at 
 the little stream of color which she was squeezing 
 out of a tube on to the palette. As she deposited 
 each gay little dab, and twisted the caps back, 
 throwing one tube after another into her color- 
 box, Struan thought he had never seen a more 
 absorbed face. It was like the absorption of a 
 child before the time of self-consciousness has set 
 in. It was very evident that the work in hand 
 had driven away the thoughts of all else from her 
 mind. 
 
 At last the palette was set, and then came the 
 choosing of the brushes. Her concentration on 
 this act was intense also. She picked up and 
 threw down brush after brush, testing them with 
 the tip of her finger to see if they were pliable and 
 free from paint, then holding them up with a 
 scrutinizing frown to see if the hairs were bent 
 or displaced in any way. When she had selected 
 a little bunch, she thrust it through the hole in her 
 palette, and laid the latter gently and carefully on 
 the table. 
 
 Then came the choosing of her canvas, which 
 involved a great deal of sighting above and below 
 the level of her hand, held steadily between herself
 
 250 STRUAN 
 
 and her subject, at whom she gazed and squinted, 
 with her head now on this side, now on that, with 
 no more apparent consciousness of his humanity 
 than if they had both been machines. 
 
 Next she got her charcoal, and had sharpened 
 two or three bits to her liking, when she discovered 
 that she had no stale bread. 
 
 " Ah ! I do think that's hard of Bridget," she 
 said, with a positively pathetic reproach. " She 
 knows I can't draw without the bread, and 
 she forgets it every time." 
 
 Picking up a tin can that had held turpentine, 
 she went to the open door, and began to beat 
 noisily on the can with her palette-knife. 
 
 " That's my impromptu for a gong," she ex- 
 plained as she returned. " It has far more effect 
 on Bridget than the tinkle of a silver bell. Here 
 she comes ! " 
 
 The Irish housemaid now appeared on the 
 scene, panting with haste. 
 
 " What is it, Miss Millicent ? " she said. 
 
 " What is it, Bridget ? What is it ? Why, it's 
 bread, Bridget. That's what it is, and that's what 
 it happens to be pretty much every day. Now, 
 Bridget, hear my words. The next time I begin 
 work here, and don't find any bread, I'm going to 
 scourge you, do you understand ? "
 
 STRUAN 251 
 
 Bridget vanished with an expression that was 
 a compromise between a grin of amusement and a 
 frown of protest, Millicent looking after her with 
 a smile. 
 
 " She'd break her neck to wait on me," she 
 said, " and she tells me all her secrets. Would 
 you believe they're very interesting ? But I'm 
 afraid my use of the word c scourge ' has shocked 
 her. I am perfectly sure it would Bonnemaman 
 and that she'd rebuke me for irreverence." 
 
 Here Bridget returned with a large loaf of 
 bread. 
 
 " Nice, good Bridget," said Millicent, indul- 
 gently. " She's brought me enough to sustain me 
 through a famine ; and she shan't be scourged a bit, 
 so she shan't." And she gave the broad-faced 
 creature a pat on her freckled face that sent her 
 away beaming. 
 
 " How human you are ! " said Struan, fervently, 
 as he watched her tearing apart her loaf of bread. 
 
 " I hope so, at all events," she answered. " I 
 think the way most people treat their servants 
 pretty much leaves the element of humanity out. 
 Mine are always more or less my friends, and I've 
 never had one of them to presume upon it. Eh 
 bien ! Posez, monsieur ! " she exclaimed, becom- 
 ing quickly absorbed in her work, as she took up
 
 252 STRUAN 
 
 her bit of charcoal and squinted up her eyes to 
 begin. 
 
 " Comme ca ne bougez pas," she said de- 
 lightedly, falling naturally into the jargon of the 
 French ateliers, which had once been familiar to 
 him, also. 
 
 She sketched rapidly with sudden bold strokes 
 and quirks, frequent use of the crumbled bread as 
 an eraser, and now and then a little shading, to 
 which she bent lovingly. 
 
 After an hour's close application the drawing 
 was done, and she let him come and look at it 
 before she fixed the outline with her fine hair 
 pencil dipped in red ink. 
 
 Then, cutting short his really astonished words 
 of praise, she flipped off the shading and the un- 
 necessary details, dusting away with quick flour- 
 ishes of her linen rag, and leaving at last only 
 the red outline on the canvas. 
 
 Then, with a long-drawn, delighted " Ah ! " she 
 took up her palette; and, with a second's con- 
 sciousness of his existence as man independent of 
 model, she gave him a brilliant though hurried 
 smile, and promptly forgot all about him except 
 that he had a head and shoulders. 
 
 It was delicious to Struan to watch her mixing 
 her colors. She would mix and dab and slap with
 
 STRUAN 253 
 
 the flat brush on the smooth wooden surface, 
 turning her head and squinting her eyes, making 
 a little pick at a new color and rubbing that in, 
 and then contemplating the result with intense 
 interest. 
 
 At last, with a deep indrawn breath and a flour- 
 ish of her arm in the air, she began to lay her 
 color. She was firmly planted before her easel ; 
 and Struan, who had no absorbing work to pre- 
 occupy him, admired the fine pose of her strong 
 figure, with the head flung back and one foot 
 advanced. 
 
 The painting went forward in silence. All the 
 time that she was making that intent study of her 
 model, he, in turn, was making as keenly inter- 
 ested a study of her, as conscious as hers was un- 
 conscious. He possessed a rare power of keeping 
 absolutely still, and posing in this easy attitude 
 was no effort to him. Indeed, in any circum- 
 stances he would have felt inclined to bodily still- 
 ness, while his intense activity of mind went on, 
 with the object of it just in front of him. It 
 added to his liberty of gaze and thought that she 
 was so evidently unconscious of him ; and he took 
 long draughts of pleasure in looking at her loveli- 
 ness, and in perceiving with his mental gaze the 
 beauties of mind and soul which he believed to be 
 its complement.
 
 254 STRUAN 
 
 If Millicent was unconscious of him, it was 
 plain that she was equally so of herself. She held 
 a brush between her teeth, which was heavily wet 
 with paint and, when she spoke (apparently into 
 the air), the movements of her lips, with the 
 wooden handle between them, amused Struan so 
 much that he found it hard not to laugh. Her 
 utterance, too, was odd and indistinct ; but she 
 remained serenely unaware. 
 
 " It really looks as if it would go," she said, her 
 eyes fixed on the point of her quickly moving 
 brush ; or, with a change of tone : " I might have 
 known I couldn't do it. Oh, but that shadow is 
 good ! not the least bit inky ! " and so on, expect- 
 ing and receiving no response from Struan, who, 
 possessed by a sense of serene content, was con- 
 tent to be both silent and still.
 
 XXI 
 
 AT last she paused. Taking the brush from 
 her mouth, she stuck it into the hole in 
 the palette with the other brushes, and 
 laid all on the table. 
 
 u That will do for the . present," she said. 
 " Want to see ? " And, taking the canvas from 
 the easel, she set it on the floor against the table, 
 coming over beside him to look at it from his point 
 of view. 
 
 " It's not so awfully bad for a beginning," she 
 said, clasping her hands at the top of her head 
 with a stretch of muscular relief, regardless of the 
 fact that this movement lifted her apron, in fun- 
 nily awkward folds, up to her ears. " When one 
 knows enough to realize how desperately difficult 
 it is to paint a portrait, the wonder is that any one 
 undertakes it. But how splendid and patient you 
 have been ! You've posed like an angel. What 
 should you like for a reward ? " 
 
 She looked him frankly in the eyes, and they 
 both smiled. 
 
 " I'm thinking," he said meditatively. 
 
 " How does a cigarette strike you ? " she said 
 
 255
 
 256 STRUAN 
 
 promptly. " I've got some treasures, and I'll take 
 one with you." 
 
 Going to a distant table, she pulled open a 
 drawer, and took out a brown paper box, which 
 she opened, displaying the neat, cork-tipped rows 
 within. 
 
 While Struan was selecting one, he noticed 
 that her eyes became riveted upon some small 
 object on the table. His eyes followed the direc- 
 tion of hers. 
 
 " 'Tis the first wasp of summer ! " she ex- 
 claimed, bending nearer to the table ; u and, oh, do 
 look at it ! It's making its toilet ! " 
 
 The insect, all unconscious of the scrutiny it 
 was under, was diligently rubbing together first its 
 fore legs and then its hind legs, after which its 
 wings were caught under its fore legs, and wiped 
 repeatedly with great care. Then followed a per- 
 formance that drew from Millicent a whispered 
 laugh of delight. Having disposed of the toilet 
 of its body, taken its bath, as it were, it now low- 
 ered its two long antennae, and proceeded to 
 smooth first one and then the other, from the head 
 down, with its fore legs, giving each of them 
 several consecutive strokes, then turning its little 
 heart-shaped head far to one side, and giving about 
 the same number to the other.
 
 STRUAN 257 
 
 " Did you ever see anything so fascinating ? " 
 exclaimed Millicent, in delight. " Isn't that exactly 
 like a woman combing out her long hair ? Isn't 
 it, absolutely? Look how its head gives when 
 it gets toward the end of the long tress ! Oh, it's 
 too cunning ! I'm sure it's got a little brush in its 
 hand, only it's too small for us to see." 
 
 Struan, delighted and amused, waited willingly 
 for her to watch it as long as she chose. But 
 presently it buzzed away ; and then she got 
 up, and reached behind to unfasten her apron. 
 Throwing it off, she stood revealed in the loose 
 loveliness of her little gown of dull blue silk. 
 Then, with a long sigh of relief, she threw herself 
 at full length on the old leather lounge, her long 
 body reaching almost from top to bottom of it. 
 Then she reached for the matches, and, lighting a 
 cigarette, began to smoke. 
 
 Struan meanwhile had lighted his ; and, draw- 
 ing an arm-chair near the foot of the sofa, he sat 
 down and looked at her. 
 
 As their eyes met, penetrating the delicate 
 smoke-atmosphere, she smiled, accompanying the 
 smile with a little sound of low laughter in her 
 throat. Her eyes got long and keen under their 
 lowered lids, between their shadowy lashes, with 
 that wonderful eloquence of gaze which Leonard
 
 258 STRUAN 
 
 had tried to describe. What Struan read in that 
 look was the conscious power to fascinate, con- 
 trolled by the restraint of a good woman's con- 
 science. 
 
 Struan was right in thinking that Millicent was 
 aware of the almost supreme charm which she pos- 
 sessed for men, when she chose to fascinate them. 
 At the present moment she was experiencing a 
 unique delight. She felt that she was in the pres- 
 ence of a man with whom she might let herself 
 go, without needing to look out for the conse- 
 quences. Here was a man with whom she felt 
 that she could have the most intimate communion 
 of mind and sentiment, and who, she felt certain, 
 was able to take the entire responsibility of the 
 situation, and sure to keep harm out of it. It was 
 something she had never known before, some- 
 thing she had ceased to expect. 
 
 She was tired from long standing, and the phys- 
 ical repose of lying on her back on this padded 
 lounge was delicious. The cigarette, too, was 
 restful and soothing; and, as she let two little 
 streams of smoke escape through her nostrils, 
 Struan said suddenly : 
 
 " Millicent ! You're inhaling ! " 
 
 " I know I am," she answered, smiling. " I 
 love it j but don't tell Len, for I've never even
 
 STRUAN 259 
 
 allowed him to learn how. Why shouldn't I 
 inhale cigarette smoke if I want to ? It's very 
 nice, and not very wicked. I think it must be the 
 faint and far suggestion of wickedness that I like 
 as much as the sedative effect. Besides, I don't 
 see why I shouldn't play at being naughty a little 
 if I like. I'm ridiculously good in most things." 
 
 Struan smiled. 
 
 " You are good," he said ; " but I can't say I see 
 anything ridiculous in it." 
 
 " You would, I fancy, if you knew my life 
 abroad. I'm in the midst of the most dangerous 
 sort of fast living, decent, conventional, and 
 thoroughly good form. When I see what their 
 enjoyments consist of, what the things are which 
 give the elan to their existence, I often think my 
 presence there is a sort of fraud, and that I have 
 no right to arouse reasonable expectations to be 
 so flatly disappointed." 
 
 " I delight to think of you in such an atmos- 
 phere," said Struan. " People are fond of quoting, 
 ' You can't touch pitch, and not be defiled ' ; but no 
 one moralizes from the reverse of that, and says, 
 'You can't touch snow, and not be purified.' " 
 
 " Neither saying is strictly true either as figure 
 or reality. We can certainly touch pitch out- 
 wardly without being inwardly defiled, and we can
 
 260 STRUAN 
 
 certainly touch snow outwardly without being 
 inwardly purified. So we can come in contact 
 with what is bad without being harmed in the 
 least, and in contact with good without being 
 benefited. Everything depends upon the material 
 on which the influence works. For instance, if 
 my friend at the picture exhibition had been the 
 very lowest of her class, how could it have hurt 
 any honest woman to take her hand and be kind 
 to her ? On the other side, how does an honest 
 woman's life affect, for instance, the lives of fast 
 French men and women ? I can see them shrug 
 their shoulders, throw up hands and eyebrows, and 
 say, c Figurez-vous ! ' and that is all." 
 
 " Then, Millicent, if you live in a world which 
 you are sure is past helping, you should leave it ; 
 for there's a vastly bigger world than that which 
 needs your help." 
 
 " I don't say it is past helping, far from it. I 
 believe any life lived faithfully is helpful, no matter 
 where it is lived. There is always some good 
 ground for the seed to fall in, but always also, I 
 think, some ground which, even from good seed, 
 produces only tares. I live in that world because 
 the person to whom I am nearest and dearest lives 
 there, my aunt, who loves me like a mother, 
 and also, I must be candid enough to confess, be-
 
 STRUAN 261 
 
 cause I've got a taste for the high flavor of life. I 
 love the finish and fineness of it ; and, more than 
 that, I love the opportunity which it gives of meeting 
 great people, men and women of commanding 
 powers and achievements. I did not know, until 
 I had the perspective of distance upon it, how 
 delightful that opportunity was. I wish you could 
 come into the life which I lead for a while,, Isn't 
 it possible for even one season ? " 
 
 A shadow crossed Struan's face. When she 
 saw it, her heart rebuked her. 
 
 "Let me tell you something," she said. "Do 
 you know I speak only the simple truth when I 
 tell you that I'd give it all up every possibility 
 offered by that life for the sake of knowing one 
 such man as you. Even that is too little for the 
 sake, I can honestly say, of knowing that one such 
 man as you exists in the same world with me." 
 
 Under the delightful freedom imparted by her 
 faith in him, she allowed herself to say this with 
 all the ardor that she felt, and to look at him with 
 kindling eyes. 
 
 " Strange ! " he said. " Your words are sweet, 
 too sweet, Millicent, and past my power to com- 
 prehend. We must be related in some wonderful 
 way that we do not understand. How comes it 
 that I could be all that to you ? It is not strange
 
 262 STRUAN 
 
 that you are that to me, a consciousness of a 
 beneficent presence in the midst of evil days, 
 which is of more value to me than anything else, 
 certainly than any mere personal happiness could 
 be. But tell me, won't you," he went on with 
 a sudden changing of the subject, " what was the 
 result of your visit to the acquaintance you met at 
 the picture exhibition ? " 
 
 " Oh, it was very strange," said Millicent, as if 
 with the release from tension. " It was totally 
 different from anything you might imagine. I 
 went to the address she gave me, so keyed up to 
 take calmly and lovingly any confidences she might 
 make to me, and so determined not to thwart my 
 purpose of helping her by seeming shocked, that I 
 felt quite bewildered when I found that she was 
 safely and securely married to a good man who 
 adores her. He met her living in that hideous 
 life, which he saw she was so much too good for ; 
 and he took her out of it, and married her. They 
 have a pretty home, and she is leading a peaceful 
 and protected life. So I did not dare so very 
 much in speaking to her in public, after all ! " 
 
 " But you didn't know, so you did dare all. 
 I'm not going to let you take away from the 
 beauty of that act, one of the most simply Christ- 
 like I've ever known of. But tell me about this 
 woman. Is she happy ? "
 
 STRUAN 263 
 
 Millicent shook her head. 
 
 " Who is ? " she said. " Can you give me an 
 instance ? " 
 
 " I am," said Struan, gravely. Then he smiled. 
 
 u Ah in that sense, so am I ; and so, perhaps, 
 is poor Antoinette ! " said she. " I call every man 
 and woman happy who is able to meet life 
 strongly, to accept their own personal share of 
 the sorrow of the world, and to bear hardness 
 without complaint. Any one who looks can see 
 lots harder than his own, and a noble heart will 
 learn from that sight the cowardice of complain- 
 ing. For my part, I have found that the greatest 
 rebellion comes from those whose unhappiness is 
 negative, those who complain that happiness, 
 which with them means getting the intense emo- 
 tional pleasures out of life, is denied them. I can 
 speak with authority," she added after a pause, 
 " as, for years, I had a hard struggle with that 
 feeling, a thirst for joy, a need of love, which, I 
 told myself, was a beautiful thing, not to be 
 suppressed, but cherished. And this, I still 
 think, was true, provided I did not allow that feel- 
 ing to be the supreme motive of life." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " said Struan, and waited eagerly for 
 her to go on. 
 
 " For a while, I did," she said, " and lived in
 
 264 STRUAN 
 
 the excited indulgence of the dream that I was to 
 be blessed and rewarded above other women. 
 Wretched years those were, when all my thoughts 
 were concentrated on ' the miserable aims that 
 end with self,' as my adored George Eliot says. 
 I think she helped me out of that slough of 
 egoism more than any one." 
 
 Something in her words, and more still in her 
 looks and tones, moved Struan deeply. But he 
 looked away from her, and did not speak. When, 
 at last, he turned his eyes upon her, he saw that 
 her mood had changed completely. 
 
 " I can't paint any more to-day," she said. 
 "The fit is off me, and I am going to indulge my 
 idle feelings. It isn't often I smoke two cigarettes 
 at a time, for I am very moderate in the indulgence 
 of my one vice. Do you light another, so that, if 
 Bonnemaman comes in, I can throw mine away, 
 and you can take the responsibility of the smoke." 
 
 " Does she object to your smoking ? " said 
 Struan, watching her with pleasure as she poised 
 cigarette and match in her fingers, and whiffed 
 a puff or two, afterward blowing out the match 
 with a long, gentle breath that made the flame 
 dance and flicker along the wood with a little flut- 
 tering noise. She was so interested in watching 
 her own performance, with her long eyes lowered,
 
 STRUAN 265 
 
 that she forgot that Struan was watching her. 
 When she looked up and caught his eyes, she 
 smiled. 
 
 " That's an old trick of mine from childhood," 
 she said, and added suddenly, " What were you 
 thinking of then ? " 
 
 Struan had been, in reality, thinking that he was 
 not quite sure that he liked a woman to smoke. 
 Perhaps it was because he had been accustomed to 
 those who did it in an objectionable way. Cer- 
 tainly, Millicent turned the thing to favor and to 
 prettiness. 
 
 " I insist on knowing what you are thinking 
 of," she said, delighted to ask the question, because 
 it was one which she would not have ventured to 
 put to most men under these circumstances. 
 
 "Ah," he said, "thoughts are flocking thick 
 and fast. One is that perhaps I ought to tell you 
 that the reason for my plunging so irrelevantly 
 into an inquiry for your friend Antoinette was be- 
 cause what you had said just before was almost 
 sweeter than I could bear." 
 
 " And why should you not bear sweetness ? " 
 she said with a clear look into his eyes. " You 
 have borne hardness, and borne it well. Take 
 care you don't make a mistake in rejecting what 
 is as rightfully your portion. I think you are in 
 danger of doing that, and I warn you."
 
 266 STRUAN 
 
 Struan looked at her fixedly. She seemed to 
 him all loveliness, from the toes of her little slip- 
 pers to the tips of the fingers laced together above 
 her head. 
 
 " What do you conceive to be my danger, 
 you ? " he said deliberately. 
 
 " Yes, in a way," she answered ; " but the dan- 
 ger consists in letting me go, not in accepting me. 
 Look at me, Lucien. I am deeply in earnest in 
 what I say. I am a brave woman, perhaps a 
 bold one. I fancy I see that at the present mo- 
 ment you are not so brave as I. Since we have 
 been in this room, if I read you aright, you have 
 had certain misgivings as to the wisdom of con- 
 tinuing our intercourse. I have never had one. 
 The very point in which you see danger is my 
 bulwark of strength. The attraction of our nat- 
 ures, minds, individualities, for each other, is a 
 thing which we feel keenly aware of. What is 
 the ground of this attraction ? I am sure that its 
 strongest element is our mutual belief in each 
 other, with all that that word 'belief implies. 
 What is it worth, if we are afraid of one another, 
 if we dare not take the good the gods no, I 
 will say God provides because we cannot trust 
 each other or ourselves to avoid wrong and foolish 
 consequences ? We are neither of us young nor
 
 STRUAN 267 
 
 rash. Our eyes are opened to see good and evil, 
 and we each have a conscience. I am not afraid. 
 Are you ? " 
 
 " Not of all hell," he answered. " You have 
 scattered to the winds the petty scruples which I 
 am ashamed to own. You have shown me the 
 thing in its true light, and I accept you as the gift 
 of God." 
 
 " And so, absolutely so, do I accept you," she 
 said. " You are an answered need in my life. 
 You are the one person to whom I feel I can tell 
 all things that ever I did, the great and the small. 
 Only there seem to be no great ones : all seems 
 small. Even my own endurance, which at times 
 has seemed to me not insignificant, shrinks to 
 nothing when I think what you have borne from 
 various causes in your life. Leonard has told me 
 a great deal, and I know that there is far more 
 than he or I have dreamed." 
 
 " My life has been full of mistakes," he said. 
 " My greatest fault has been the lack of patience, 
 and that seems to me a quality that you possess in 
 a remarkable degree." 
 
 " If you draw contrasts," said Millicent, " so 
 do I. Sometimes I wonder if this quality which 
 you call patience in me, this power of waiting, 
 will, in the long run, prove to have done good or
 
 268 STRUAN 
 
 harm. I see how eager you are to assure me of 
 the good, but I have come seriously to doubt if 
 you are right. The aim of life, as you and I 
 accept it, being the formation of character, ob- 
 stacles and hindrances are things to be sought and 
 welcomed. Sometimes it seems a nobler thing to 
 act impulsively, and make mistakes and grow 
 strong in overcoming them, than to be so self- 
 guarded, watchful, and patient as to keep out of 
 harm's way, preserve one's self intact and inviolate, 
 and to have nothing to regret, unless it be that 
 after a while there comes a wondering regret for 
 the absence of regret, I mean for the deeper, 
 keener, it may be the sadder experiences of life 
 which what we call our mistakes are sure to bring 
 us. As a record of life, the fair unwritten page of 
 inexperience seems to me far less valuable than 
 the scored and blotted sheet that tells of a life of 
 heiy ordeals, temptations, and even falls, if from 
 these one has risen again." 
 
 " Your life has not been without temptations," 
 said Struan, with a serious affirmation that made 
 her feel that he saw deep into her nature. 
 
 "No, it has not, thank God," she answered 
 earnestly. " And I can think of some which were 
 worth struggling with. My keenest temptation 
 has been marriage. I had such a thirst for the
 
 STRUAN 269 
 
 fulness of life which can come only with marriage 
 and parenthood that, more than once, I came near 
 making a compromise, blinding my eyes and stop- 
 ping my ears to facts which sight and hearing de- 
 clared to be positive obstacles to true marriage. I 
 wondered then, as I wonder still, if a positive 
 mistake might not be in this case a more profit- 
 able thing in its fruits than a negative prudence. 
 Sometimes I share the opinion that remorse is 
 preferable to regret, if by remorse one means re- 
 pentance for doing, and by regret sorrow for not 
 doing. As early youth slipped from me, and I 
 began to look at the possibility that I might not 
 marry, I was bewildered to think of what my 
 future was to be. I thought of all the unmarried 
 women I knew, and something very strong in me 
 rebelled at the idea of joining their ranks. But 
 there was a yet stronger rebellion against a mar- 
 riage which did not fulfil the conditions which my 
 nature and my conscience demanded. Well, I 
 have remained unmarried ; and, under these cir- 
 cumstances, I might be allowed some credit for 
 it. It may be so ; but, while I do not fully in- 
 dorse, I understand better than I once did a speech 
 which I once heard a woman make, and thought 
 at the time that it was infamous. She said that 
 her experience had taught her that it was better
 
 270 STRUAN 
 
 for women to marry badly than not at all. As I 
 say, I don't agree with her ; but I can see her 
 point of view. Marriage develops more than any- 
 thing, and it is development that we want most." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! marriage," cried Struan, " the 
 true marriage that is of mind and soul as well as 
 body ; but never believe that an incomplete and 
 mistaken marriage develops any noble trait except 
 endurance, which may sometimes be noble and 
 sometimes not. I can understand, Millicent, how 
 your life has been starved for want of the highest 
 good and joy that is given to men and women ; but 
 you should thank God that you have stood firm, 
 and accepted no compromise. Why has the world 
 gone so wrong, I wonder ? It was a very beauti- 
 ful and perfect order of creation that made men 
 and women for each other ; but the low ideal of 
 marriage, in the minds of men chiefly, is at the 
 bottom of all the mischief and misery. This it is 
 that furnishes the explanation of the fact that the 
 superior women, the grand women, the women 
 who should be the mothers of generations of great 
 ones to come, do not marry ; and from this source 
 I explain chiefly the degeneracy of the race." 
 
 Warmly touched by the ardor of his tones, 
 Millicent rose from the lounge, went to a distant 
 table, and got a small book which she brought
 
 STRUAN 271 
 
 back with her, and stood before Struan, turning 
 the leaves in search of some special thing. 
 
 She looked taller than usual in this scant gown, 
 with its long lines crossed by the loose girdle at 
 her waist. Her brown hair was twisted into a rich 
 knot behind, underneath which soft Little curls 
 nestled about her lovely nuque. Her gown was 
 cut to the edge of the white column of her throat, 
 where it ended in a severe line, without trim- 
 ming. The fine hands, which showed their form 
 distinctly against the dark blue cover of the book, 
 were without rings or bracelets j and their fairness 
 was accentuated by one or two streaks of paint. 
 
 Struan was taking in these details as she stood 
 and turned the pages. 
 
 " Ah, here it is ! " she exclaimed. " I don't 
 know who wrote it ; but its philosophy appeals to 
 me, and comforts me when things are at their 
 worst." And she read : 
 
 "Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 
 
 Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea ; 
 I rave no more 'gainst time and fate, 
 For, lo, my own shall come to me ! 
 
 "I stay my haste, I make delays. 
 
 For what avails this eager pace ? 
 I stand amid the eternal ways, 
 
 And what is mine shall know my face.
 
 272 STRUAN 
 
 "The stars come nightly to the sky, 
 
 The tidal wave unto the sea ; 
 Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, 
 Can keep my own away from me!" 
 
 As she finished the lines in her sweet, thrilling 
 voice, and closed the book, they looked into each 
 other's eyes. 
 
 Millicent had grown accustomed now to that 
 gaze of insight. He also knew well, by this time, 
 that sprite look through the lashes of her lowered 
 lids. 
 
 As she bent that look upon him now, the smile 
 that matched it came to her lips, and the little 
 murmur of laughter in her throat. She knew that 
 she was allowing herself to be dangerously charm- 
 ing, but she knew also that Struan was strong. 
 
 It was a strong smile with which he answered 
 her look now. Then, simultaneously, both faces 
 grew grave with an interchange of glances that 
 signified a deep mutual comprehension. 
 
 " Yes," he said, as if answering her thought, 
 " though much is lost to both of us, much is also 
 left." 
 
 " We have c our own,' or shall have it ! " she 
 said. " If we fail in everything else, we may suc- 
 ceed in what is the highest, the making of a 
 character. It is strange that people who fail in
 
 STRUAN 273 
 
 other things in art, in literature, in business, in 
 love do not oftener take comfort in that. It 
 seems a beautiful thing that the very highest field 
 of greatness is attainable by all. And not only is 
 a great character higher than a great painter or 
 writer or inventor, or any of those things, but I 
 even think that it is rarer. I don't mean simple 
 goodness and admirableness, more or less tainted 
 with egoism ; but I mean the very highest good- 
 ness, the best of high thinking and high doing, 
 which, if developed to man's greatest possibility, 
 must, it seems to me, be more thrilling and im- 
 pressive than any genius which works upon canvas 
 or paper or electricity, or any mere material 
 things. I remember once that I said this to Len 
 when he was much discouraged about his work, 
 and it helped him." 
 
 " Bless you ! " said Struan, fervently. " Heaven 
 bless you, Millicent, for all the noble thoughts 
 you have put into Len's head, and into his 
 father's, also ! " 
 
 To his surprise, he saw Millicent's eyes fill 
 suddenly. 
 
 " O Lucien, don't ! " she said in a voice that 
 choked a little. " If you knew how it makes me 
 feel, you would not say a thing like that to me. 
 I'm afraid it's mostly talk with me. I've never
 
 274 STRUAN 
 
 done anything worth speaking of; and what I've 
 refrained from doing seems a poor, negative sort of 
 merit. But I can say this, Lucien, to you, 
 what I have borne, in doing without love in my 
 life, makes me feel that I know something of 
 endurance. But even this merit, if merit it be, 
 was involuntary. I would have taken it at any 
 cost if I could have got it without injury to 
 others. I am afraid that my endurance has 
 amounted to very little, except that it has been 
 more or less uncomplaining."
 
 XXII 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, one of those 
 benign, still days which seem only to 
 belong to an American Sunday in the 
 springtime. 
 
 Struan and Millicent on leaving the breakfast 
 table had seated themselves on a broad piazza 
 which overlooked the sloping lawn, now green 
 and downy with the young spring grass. There 
 was a clump of willows some distance off, and the 
 rising sap in their long stems made a gold-colored 
 lattice-work against the clear blue sky. 
 
 From time to time the silence was accentuated 
 by some pleasant country noises, the crowing of 
 a rooster, the lowing of a cow, the tinkle of a 
 sheep-bell. 
 
 It was exquisitely serene and sweet, and Struan 
 had just said that he wondered if it might not 
 be a little like the Garden of Eden, when Mrs. 
 Milner came out, and said it was time to get ready 
 for church, and that she was not well enough to 
 go to-day. She followed this announcement with 
 a significant look at Millicent. 
 
 " I'll get ready at once, Bonnemaman," Milli- 
 275
 
 276 STRUAN 
 
 cent said, rising. " Will you go with me, 
 Lucien ? " 
 
 " With pleasure," said Struan, promptly, feel- 
 ing a sudden glow at his heart, which he did not 
 quite understand. He was very regardless of the 
 forms of religion himself, but he was deeply Chris- 
 tian in his heart ; and poor little Jenny's utter 
 Paganism often smote him. 
 
 A little later he came out of his room ready ; 
 and Millicent heard him bounding downstairs 
 two steps at a time, with the impetuousness of a 
 boy. 
 
 " You need not have been in such haste," she 
 said, as she joined him on the porch in bonnet and 
 gloves. " The church is very near. Bonnemaman 
 built this little church to solve the carriage-on- 
 Sunday problem in her own mind." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he said, as he took 
 from her the two small books which she had 
 brought, and went down the steps at her side. 
 
 " Well, you see," she said, " Bonnemaman is 
 a great believer in the sacred observance of Sun- 
 day, and is one of those Christians who, when 
 you prove to them that the New Testament does 
 not enjoin it, thinks that it ought to, if it doesn't. 
 So she would never use her horses and carriage 
 on Sunday, because she wishes the men to go to
 
 STRUAN 277 
 
 church. What was my surprise, therefore, to 
 find that in Paris her coachman had a standing 
 order to bring round the carriage morning and 
 afternoon on every Sunday ! I was at first be- 
 wildered by the suggestion that Paris had cor- 
 rupted my little grandmother. At last something 
 brought about an explanation ; and she told me 
 that, much against her preference, she compelled 
 herself to drive to church twice a day, in order to 
 prevent her coachman from going to the cafes 
 chantants and other places of the sort on Sunday. 
 That's a positive fact, and she has always been 
 quite unaware that it has a funny side to it." 
 
 Struan laughed, but said nothing as he walked 
 along at her side, stirring the sun-warmed box- 
 bushes with his stick and liberating from them 
 their pungent, delicious smell, which flooded the 
 air with its sweetness. 
 
 " Oh, how I love that ! " said Millicent, sniffing 
 it in. " It's the best of all smells to me. It 
 wakes up every pleasant memory of the past, 
 and creates a host of bright possibilities ahead for 
 me." 
 
 " How strange ! How extraordinary ! " said 
 Struan. " I have precisely the same feeling 
 about it." 
 
 " That doesn't seem to me strange, but nat-
 
 278 STRUAN 
 
 ural," said Millicent. " We think and feel very 
 much alike. Why should not the same odors 
 appeal to us ? There must be a law that governs 
 these things." 
 
 He did not answer ; and, after they had walked 
 on in silence for some paces, he said : 
 
 " Do you go regularly to church ? " 
 
 " Pretty regularly," she said. " I go when I 
 feel like it, and don't go when I don't feel like it ; 
 but, as I generally feel like it, it isn't such a lax 
 rule as it looks." 
 
 " Are you orthodox ? " said Struan, smiling and 
 yet grave. 
 
 " I am between two stools. Half of my 
 friends, headed by Bonnemaman, think me dan- 
 gerously daring in theory and lax in practice ; 
 while the other half, my aunt and my friends 
 abroad, think me more or less timid and or- 
 thodox." 
 
 " You are not timid," he said decidedly. 
 
 For the rest of the walk they were almost 
 wholly silent. Perhaps each felt the sense of 
 companionship more perfect so. 
 
 When they entered the church and went to 
 Mrs. Milner's pew, and Millicent knelt for a 
 moment in silent prayer, Struan knelt also. 
 Whether or not she had any petition to make to
 
 STRUAN 279 
 
 God, he did not know. For himself, he had none. 
 The only utterance of his heart as he knelt there 
 was a deep thanksgiving, just a simple thought of 
 gratitude to have met this woman at last, to have 
 seen and spoken to her, to know that she was in 
 the world. 
 
 Perhaps there was no one in the church that 
 day to whom the service made so strong an appeal 
 as to Struan. The very lack of familiarity made 
 the beautiful prayers more affecting to him. 
 
 The scriptural lessons also struck the same 
 chords in the hearts of each. Millicent found the 
 places, and offered him part of her book ; and he 
 followed the service, feeling that he held her by 
 this sacred bond. Her gloved thumb was on one 
 corner of the little book, and his ungloved thumb 
 on the other. 
 
 The service ended with a hymn. Millicent 
 found the place, and he had just begun to read the 
 words, when he heard a voice, low and sweet, 
 singing, as near to him as his heart it seemed : 
 
 "Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, 
 
 Lead thou me on. 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home: 
 
 Lead thou me on. 
 
 Keep thou my feet. I do not ask to see 
 The distant scene : one step enough for me."
 
 280 STRUAN 
 
 When the hymn ended, they knelt for the 
 benediction. The sweetness of that voice, those 
 words, was almost too much. Tears overflowed 
 his eyes, and he was glad to bow his head. 
 
 He was a great musician, and Millicent's voice 
 was but a small one. Yet no music he had ever 
 heard had moved his spirit like this. 
 
 They walked home in almost total silence. 
 There seemed little need of speech. Now and 
 then they looked at each other, and sometimes 
 smiled, as if in comprehension. There was a 
 divine feeling in their hearts, an acceptance of 
 sorrow as right and beautiful because of the fruit 
 it yielded. Perhaps in that moment neither of 
 them would have exchanged it for joy. 
 
 Near the church they met a little child running 
 swiftly to overtake her sister who had gone ahead. 
 The joyousness of the little creature, who was 
 laughing as she ran, stirred Millicent strangely. 
 She caught her up and kissed her ardently, then 
 turned her toward Struan, that he might look at the 
 glad, unclouded face. Then she looked from that 
 little face to Struan's, and her eyes were full of 
 tears. He understood their mute questioning ; for, 
 as she put the eager creature down, he said : 
 
 " Her unknowingness ? Isn't it that that 
 touches you so ? "
 
 STRUAN 281 
 
 She nodded briefly, and the lines about her 
 mouth worked a little. She covered her eyes 
 with her hand, but he could see the piteousness 
 of the lower lip caught between her teeth. 
 
 " I understand," he said in a strong voice that 
 steadied her ; " and, if I look at her and fear, I 
 have only to look at you and I exult. O Milli- 
 cent, Millicent, c God's in his heaven, all is right 
 with the world ! ' " 
 
 Millicent had recovered her self-control. She 
 could not trust herself to speak, however. She 
 put out her hand impulsively, and he took it a 
 second in both his own. She felt a new strength 
 come into her from that firm grasp ; and, as she 
 drew her hand away, she smiled. It was almost 
 a smile of triumph, and there was triumph also in 
 his eyes. 
 
 So they reached home at last, full of a strange 
 sweet comfort born of the willing surrender which 
 was in both their hearts. They were tasting of 
 a joy unknown to youth, the knowledge that the 
 soul's need is a more important thing than the 
 heart's desire. An exquisite contentment possessed 
 them both, in the light of which all things that 
 were were right.
 
 XXIII 
 
 THE three inmates of Mrs. Milner's house 
 had each retired for an afternoon rest. 
 Millicent, however, found it impossible 
 to go to sleep ; and, after an unrefreshing nap, she 
 lay a long time thinking. 
 
 It was impossible that she could long remain on 
 such a heaven-kissing hill as that of her last inter- 
 view with Struan. The strength of it had passed 
 into her soul, and she knew that she was perma- 
 nently enriched and fortified by it ; but now came 
 back those thoughts of sadness never far away 
 from any of us, and always so ready to respond to 
 the first bidding to enter. 
 
 At last she resolved to get up and write to 
 Leonard. There were writing materials in the 
 studio, and she decided to go up there and write 
 her letter. 
 
 She stood before the glass and brushed out her 
 thick hair, twisting it into a pretty knot, and get- 
 ting the effect of back and sides with her hand- 
 glass. Then she slipped on a little gown of dull 
 rose-colored silk, and belted it loosely with her 
 silver girdle. Then, bending very near the glass, 
 282
 
 STRUAN 283 
 
 she looked at herself scrutinizingly. She had done 
 this very often to ask herself candidly if she were 
 losing her beauty ; but still she could tell herself 
 no. Some sharp pangs she had suffered when she 
 had seen the charm which belongs to mere youth 
 fading and passing, but the beauty which had come 
 with mature womanhood was equal now to its 
 best. She felt very thankful for it. It would 
 have been a pain to feel it otherwise. 
 
 The long mirror showed her tall figure com- 
 plete. As she caught up the train of her gown, 
 preparatory to leaving the room, the sight of her 
 slender feet below the frills of her skirt gave her a 
 distinct pleasure. She cared so intensely for 
 everything that was beautiful that she cherished 
 with gratitude every claim to beauty that she 
 possessed. 
 
 All her life Millicent had believed that these 
 things would one day make her dearer to some 
 one who should be supremely dear to her. How 
 old, old, old that cherished idea had grown ! 
 Would she be compelled, after all, to confess that 
 it had been foolish ? 
 
 " I am forty years old," she said to herself as 
 she walked up the steps. " How would I look 
 upon this youthful thirst for love in another 
 woman, if I could see it without prejudice ?
 
 284 STRUAN 
 
 Would I call it preposterous, undignified, silly ? 
 Perhaps I should. I have managed to hide it 
 carefully, and I must bury it deeper and deeper 
 still. But, the deeper I put it there, the stronger 
 root does it take, so that I wonder which will die 
 first, it or me. Well," she ended with a sigh, 
 " I'll go and write to Leonard, who is gloriously 
 young and has the world before him. If he makes 
 of his world, however, no more than I have made 
 of mine, I would not care to change places with 
 him." 
 
 Treading lightly on her softly slippered feet, 
 she entered the studio, and closed the door behind 
 her. Just within the threshold she stopped short, 
 catching her breath for fear of making a noise. 
 There before her, his strong body stretched at 
 length upon the lounge, lay Struan, fast asleep. 
 
 He seemed very tall, almost as tall as Len ; and 
 there was a stronger likeness to his son than she 
 had ever seen in him before. 
 
 She crossed the room very softly, resting at 
 each footstep, and sank noiselessly into a padded 
 chair that stood not far from the lounge. There 
 she sat, profoundly still, and looked at him with 
 scrutiny. 
 
 His features, utterly off-guard, were sadder than 
 she had ever seen them. The lines in his face
 
 STRUAN 285 
 
 were deeper, and there were more gray hairs in his 
 thick locks than she had noticed before ; but, 
 sleeping or waking, he had a look of power that 
 she had never seen in any other man. She 
 watched the deep, regular breaths ; and she looked 
 at his dark-skinned hands and muscular limbs with 
 a pleasure in his physical strength. His will, his 
 thoughts, his resolutions, she felt to be equally 
 strong. She reflected, with a sort of protest, that 
 there was, perhaps, such a thing as being too strong. 
 This man, it seemed, could not even be tempted. 
 There was, and she knew it, a vein of reckless- 
 ness in her which sometimes fired her to very wild 
 imaginings ; but she could conceive of no such 
 spirit in the man asleep before her. 
 
 As she sat watching his face, a sudden change 
 came over it. She could not see that any feature 
 moved ; but, as when a light from behind will 
 bring out pictures on a screen which have been 
 there unseen before, the spirit within this man 
 irradiated his features with a look of happiness 
 which was as evident to Millicent as were the 
 features themselves. 
 
 She leaned nearer to him, wondering and in- 
 terested. Something, perhaps the fixedness of her 
 gaze, waked him. 
 
 As his eyes opened, she looked at him and 
 smiled, with that sprite look in her long eyes.
 
 286 STRUAN 
 
 Her next consciousness was that he had caught 
 her in his arms. Instantly afterward he had re- 
 leased her, and she was sinking back into her 
 chair, watching him as he crossed the room rapidly 
 and stood looking out of the window. 
 
 Her heart bounded as she looked at him, his 
 hands thrust deep into the pockets of his sack 
 coat, strained hard across his back. The whole 
 figure was erect and tense, as of a man braced to 
 bear. 
 
 He stood some moments there intensely still. 
 Then he turned, crossed the room, and stood 
 before her, his manner self-possessed, his eyes 
 serious and candid. The keen, wild light that 
 she had seen in them for that brief instant was 
 quite gone. 
 
 " It isn't an apology that I have to make to you, 
 Millicent," he said. " It is an explanation. I 
 had been asleep and dreaming. The dream is 
 responsible. When I opened my eyes and saw 
 you there, I was not fully awake. I was dreaming 
 still when I jumped up from that lounge and until 
 I touched you. Then I waked." 
 
 Millicent kept her eyes upon him steadily. 
 
 "Tell me your dream," she said. 
 
 He met her gaze as steadily for a moment. 
 Then he said,
 
 STRUAN 287 
 
 " I should like to, but I will not." 
 
 " You will," she said with low-toned deter- 
 mination, while her eyes held his resolutely. 
 
 " You are wrong," he said. " I will not." 
 
 Her face softened to the gentlest smile. Eyes 
 and lips smiled together, as she said in the coaxing 
 tone of a child accustomed to being indulged : 
 
 " But, Lucien, if I beg, if I beseech, if I 
 implore ? " 
 
 " Not even then," he said with a smile. " O 
 Millicent, Millicent, you complete woman ! You 
 shall not compel me to a thing my soul forbids. 
 You would despise me if you could do it. You 
 know the woman power in you ; and you count 
 upon it, as well you may. You will not often find 
 that you overestimate it. In this instance, how- 
 ever, you have not known the counter-power that 
 there is in me. I scarcely knew it myself until 
 two minutes ago. If I had allowed you to compel 
 me to tell you that dream, I should have been 
 master of myself no longer. And master of my- 
 self I am." 
 
 " And so you shall remain, for all of me, my 
 noble kinsman," she said with an utter change of 
 look and tone. " I have had certain theories 
 about you which I had some interest in testing." 
 
 " For instance, whether I was weak or 
 strong ? "
 
 288 STRUAN 
 
 His smile nettled her a little as she answered, 
 
 " Not that exactly j but you have more than 
 once suggested the doubt to me as to whether 
 a man might not be, in a certain way, too strong, 
 that is, might not be so afraid of giving way to 
 feeling that it would amount to cowardice, and 
 would, in the end, crush feeling out, thus making 
 him weak instead of strong." 
 
 " It might. I can see that possibility, but it is 
 a danger that does not exist for me. There is no 
 danger of my being too strong, Millicent. There 
 is some not very much, I think, but some of 
 my not being strong enough. And as for crushing 
 feeling out of me, you dear and innocent woman- 
 thing, you don't know what you are talking about. 
 All my life it has been almost too big for me to 
 hold, as if a giant lived inside a dwarf, and 
 fought continually for room to move and stretch. 
 As I grow older, I do not find the giant to grow 
 either smaller or weaker : only the dwarf, by con- 
 stant strain and hardening of the muscles, grows 
 stronger with him, and has never, so far, given 
 him the advantage which he has fought for day or 
 night." 
 
 A certain decided change came over his face as 
 he took a chair and drew it toward Millicent, so 
 that he faced her directly. When he spoke, his 
 voice, too, was different.
 
 STRUAN 289 
 
 " I have been waiting for this opportunity," he 
 said, " to ask you to listen to me, Millicent, while 
 I tell you, as quickly as I possibly can, one or two 
 things which are needed to give you an insight 
 into my life. I do not want to sadden you ; and 
 I hope to give you, with these confidences, some- 
 thing of the strength which has enabled me to 
 bear my not over-fortunate life with a certain de- 
 gree of courage. I say a man or a woman who 
 possesses the power to bear with courage the hard- 
 ness of their individual lots is fully as richly 
 endowed by fate as those men and women who 
 have their hearts' desires in the way of fortune, 
 love, success, fame, or whatever it may be. To 
 me now, as always, love seems the supreme joy ; 
 and yet not even for love would I exchange the 
 power to endure which, to some extent at least, is 
 mine. I can imagine that the same life might 
 contain both, the perfect good of endurance and 
 the perfect joy of love ; but, to be complete, the 
 endurance should come first. Men and women 
 would be unworthy to have love who could not do 
 without it, and do without it resolutely and cheer- 
 fully. If, as I say, endurance could come first, 
 and, after one had given proof to one's self and 
 the world of a brave and patient power to endure, 
 love could come then, the humanity that admits
 
 290 STRUAN 
 
 of such a state need make no weak complaints of 
 mortality and sickness and such minor things. 
 Now, since I deliberately make this my choice, 
 since I prefer as my gift from Fate, or Providence, 
 the power to renounce and to endure in a spirit 
 that shall add to the great courage-store of life 
 for those about me and after me to draw upon, I 
 don't make any weak complaining that joy has 
 been denied me. Had I been given the power to 
 choose, I should have taken endurance rather than 
 joy." He paused a moment, and then went on : 
 
 " Since I have made my position plain to you, 
 you will not let your kind heart pity me more 
 than it need when I tell you something of the life 
 I have lived outside your knowledge." 
 
 He paused. Millicent did not speak; but he 
 got his answer from her eyes, which were intent 
 with interest and sympathy. 
 
 " I married at twenty-three," he said, speaking 
 rapidly as if he were anxious to be through with 
 his task. " You already know something of 
 Leonard's poor mother and her invalid life. It 
 was never a real union at all. We spent a few 
 wretched years trying to reconcile our utterly un- 
 reconcilable natures, and then we gave it up. I 
 think she did her best, and that she had some 
 affection for me ; but I saw from the day that I
 
 STRUAN 291 
 
 married her that she was incapable of loving me 
 as a wife should love her husband. Her coldness 
 drove me wild ; and for many months the whole 
 universe seemed to be upset, and love above all 
 things seemed a madness and a delusion. Gradu- 
 ally, I found my bearings again, and saw that it 
 was not love and marriage in themselves that were 
 wrong, but only as they existed in my own case. 
 For a long time I staggered on under the weight 
 of a marriage that was a mere pretence ; and then 
 I spoke out plainly, and we agreed to live apart. 
 This for many years we did. I believe I did my 
 best for her; and Leonard, who knows all, was 
 satisfied." 
 
 " Satisfied ? " she said. " Leonard has talked 
 to me freely about it. That word is far too little 
 for what he feels about your course." 
 
 " Leonard's judgment is partial," he said ; "but 
 I did accept the undeniably hard conditions of my 
 life, with no thought of doing anything but bear- 
 ing them. I had grown entirely accustomed to 
 endurance, when death made me free. I had, 
 however, no idea of marriage again until within 
 a year conditions arose which caused me to marry 
 suddenly. You have never seen my wife, and 
 I do not know what Leonard may have told you 
 of her. I am anxious that you shall know her
 
 292 STRUAN 
 
 some time, and she you. At present she is visit- 
 ing relatives in the West." 
 
 " Yes, I know. Leonard told me," she said 
 gently. 
 
 "She is very young," he went on, " scarcely 
 more than Leonard's age, and comes of simple 
 country people without importance or position of 
 any kind. She had a pretty voice, and wanted to 
 go on the stage ; and she came to New York in 
 order to take some lessons from me. But I dis- 
 couraged her. I saw that she was not only coun- 
 try-bred and ignorant of the world, but that she 
 had the passionate, wild nature of a little savage, 
 and absolutely no restraints in the way of family 
 influence, conventional usage, or even self-protec- 
 tion. Indeed, it was her freedom and impulsive- 
 ness and her purity and honest nature, so marked 
 in contrast to the cold prudishness of the over- 
 civilized women of to-day, that constituted her 
 powerful charm for me. I felt it without know- 
 ing that I felt it, until, by some chance, inevitable 
 between two such natures as hers and mine, the 
 fact was revealed to us both ; and I found that the 
 feeling existed on her part as well as mine. She 
 had all the fire and nature in her that I had 
 missed so long, and I soon felt that the love which 
 we had betrayed for each other made a demand
 
 STRUAN 293 
 
 upon me which I could only discharge by marry- 
 ing her. I considered, hesitated, and yielded, 
 not wholly through weakness. I do not expect 
 others to believe it, but I dare to tell you that I 
 agreed to the marriage as much for her sake as my 
 own. She is a little, youthful, inexperienced 
 creature, who does not often have a serious 
 thought, who is, as she frankly owns, unintellect- 
 ual, even uneducated, both in mind and manners ; 
 but she gave herself to me nobly and generously, 
 in the very flower of her youth and beauty, and 
 for my sake she made the great sacrifice of giving 
 up her stage career, a thing on which her heart 
 was set." 
 
 When he looked at Millicent, he expected to 
 see on her face some reflection of his own fervor ; 
 but she met his eyes a little coldly. 
 
 " It speaks badly for women, or rather for your 
 opinion of them," she said, " that you should be 
 surprised that a woman should willingly make 
 some small sacrifice for love. Besides, what was 
 a stage career to this girl, compared to being the 
 wife of Lucien Struan, even if she had not loved 
 you, as it's to be supposed she did ! And you 
 call that sacrifice ! How can women be anything 
 but small and narrow, when they are not believed 
 in ? "
 
 294 STRUAN 
 
 When she looked at Struan, as she ended, she 
 saw that he was moved by some inward feeling so 
 strong that it prevented his speaking for a moment. 
 Presently he said : 
 
 u You know very little about me, if you think 
 that I am one of those who disbelieve in woman. 
 That is the deepest and most sacred belief of my 
 life. I will not say that I have kept it always 
 clear and unsullied. But what I will say is that, 
 as often as I have strayed away from it, I have 
 come back, in humiliation for my want of faith. 
 I believe in women in every way. So strong is 
 this belief that, if I thought that voting and hold- 
 ing office would result in the real freedom of 
 women and the grand consummation of the pre- 
 dominance of the woman-spirit in the world, I 
 would fight for their suffrage. The man-spirit has 
 ruled long enough. Its influence has been tested, 
 and the world is a bad world yet. We have 
 waited long enough to see if ' out of the strong 
 would come forth sweetness,' and it has not come. 
 Let us see now if out of the sweet will not come 
 forth strength ! The world has vital need of 
 both. It can do without one as little as without 
 the other. I believe in progressive dispensations ; 
 and, according to that theory, I believe that the 
 world should grow out of the man-spirit upward
 
 STRUAN 295 
 
 to the woman-spirit. If we begin at a point 
 where barbarism makes brute force and physical 
 courage the highest virtues, then, when we shall 
 have progressed upward, let our higher natures 
 have what they demand, purity, sweetness, kind- 
 ness, faithfulness, gentleness, modesty, patience, 
 fortitude, meekness all that is found in what 
 is called * the womanly.' As surely as spirit is 
 higher than flesh, just so surely is woman higher 
 than man. But don't misunderstand me in this," 
 he broke off with a sudden energy of protest. 
 " Don't suppose, when I make this distinction of 
 spirit and flesh, that I put under the latter head 
 that grand spiritual essence of pure human pas- 
 sion. No a thousand times ! It is here that I 
 find woman's greatest mission, to teach men 
 how to love, to spiritualize and intellectualize their 
 coarser natures, to kill sensuality, and to raise 
 pure passion to its true place and stamp it with 
 the beauty of holiness. If the world is out of 
 joint, it is because the masculine has still the pre- 
 dominance, and because we allow ourselves to be 
 governed by the rule of force, like the savage. 
 But for one influence, which came as the Light 
 of the World, and both by teaching and example 
 leavened the lump with a little of the leaven of 
 the womanly, it seems likely that our race would
 
 296 STRUAN 
 
 have become by this time the merely brutal. It 
 is this that men worship in Christ, as much as 
 his supremacy of intellect and character. Some 
 writer has suggested the idea that it is this our 
 need of the womanly to worship which has 
 driven such hosts of human beings into Mari- 
 olatry." 
 
 Millicent listened to him, profoundly moved. 
 His face was wonderful. She recalled his having 
 told her once that he always congratulated himself 
 that, in leading an orchestra, he stood with his 
 back to the audience, as, when greatly moved by 
 music or any strong emotion, he felt that his face 
 betrayed too much. She felt that he trusted her, 
 that he made no effort to wear a mask in her 
 presence ; and, as they sat and looked at each 
 other, she knew that it was by his consent that 
 she read his very soul. 
 
 Every trace of the coquetry which she had felt 
 a little while ago was now gone, and her mood 
 was as serious as his. A sadness that seemed as 
 if it would overwhelm her had taken possession 
 of her heart. 
 
 Silence had fallen between them. It was filled, 
 to each, with a sense of nearness. Millicent 
 sat with her head dropped upon her hand, her 
 elbow on the arm of her chair. Once, and then
 
 STRUAN 297 
 
 again, she looked up, to find his eyes fixed on her 
 with a gaze that made her feel that her heart was 
 bared before him. Struan also had this feeling. 
 He saw no reason to conceal from her the truth 
 about himself. Why should he ? She already 
 knew. Her knowledge of him, of his essential 
 ego y made clear to her his feelings in the present 
 time of his life. 
 
 After a long silence he began again. 
 
 " I have a supreme object and desire in my life, 
 and I want your aid to accomplish it. You well 
 understand that it is not my own happiness. You 
 understand, also, I imagine, what it is. Leonard 
 I feel safe about, with your help and watchfulness 
 over him. My work, too, after the success of 
 the festival, seems now on a secure basis. My 
 object is to make Jenny happy, to comfort, 
 brighten, sustain her, to atone for any uncon- 
 scious wrong I may have done her in making her 
 my wife. If she were "- he paused as if un- 
 willing to utter the word, and then, not finding a 
 better, said " different (I don't mean that I wish 
 her changed except in some subtle way that would 
 put us more on a level), the problem would not be 
 so difficult. Ah, Millicent, I often feel that I 
 wronged her youth in marrying her ! I want you 
 to see and know her. I have wanted this all
 
 298 STRUAN 
 
 along ; but it seemed best to wait until I could give 
 you some insight into the position in which she is 
 placed, and her attitude and feelings. I did ask 
 her to come with me to call on you, but she 
 frankly refused. She is the soul of honesty ; and 
 she said I might as well recognize the fact that 
 she was not of your sort, that her intercourse 
 with Len had settled the matter. He has been all 
 that I could wish in his bearing to her, and made 
 every effort to be friendly and familiar; but that 
 it was an effort she has perceived and resented. 
 She does not blame Len, but she avoids him. 
 His presence gives her a sense of constraint which 
 is most unpleasant and unusual, for she has been 
 accustomed to being first in the society which she 
 has had heretofore. With me she did not have 
 that feeling, because love is the great leveller ; and 
 we truly loved each other. Besides, she is right 
 in a way. You and Len are more of your class 
 than I am. It could not possibly be otherwise. 
 I have been, half my life, mixing with people of 
 all sorts ; and I have no particular class. But, in 
 spite of all this, Millicent, I want you to know 
 my wife. You will be able to overcome this feel- 
 ing in her, to do away with this barrier. I feel 
 a tremendous hope that you will help us both to 
 a better happiness and mutual comprehension than
 
 STRUAN 299 
 
 we have ever known. She has never seen a 
 woman like you ! Ah, my lovely friend and 
 cousin, who has ? And if you will care for her 
 a little, if you will sympathize with her and help 
 her, and by your womanly knowledge help me to 
 be to her what she needs, you will be giving me 
 the greatest benefit that I can get from friend or 
 woman. I crave your friendship for my wife, my 
 friend. She has never had such an opportunity 
 as a friendship with you will be. I think she will 
 know how to appreciate it. I think it will show 
 her the contrast with the women who have been 
 her friends until now. How could she help it, 
 poor child ! They were the best she ever knew." 
 
 " I will do my best," said Millicent. " I will 
 make it, for the present, the object of my life, too, 
 to make her happy, if I can be an instrument to 
 that end. O Lucien, I thank you for showing 
 me this trust. If she will only love me, perhaps 
 I can do much." 
 
 Poor Millicent ! She said these brave words 
 with a heavy heart. She knew that she would 
 keep the pledge, and do her best ; but at the same 
 time she felt come over her a great sense of 
 weariness. How long must she go on helping 
 others to a happiness which no one helped her to, 
 trying to fill the hearts of others while her own
 
 300 STRUAN 
 
 heart remained empty, to feed the souls of others 
 while hers starved ? 
 
 She stifled back these feelings, though, and said 
 gently : 
 
 " You think she is not happy ? " 
 
 " She is too brave to tell me so, but I can 
 feel it. If you could see her ! She is a child 
 to you and me, the age of Len in years, and 
 younger far in nature. Often I feel, with a sharp 
 pang, that perhaps a younger man might have 
 made her happy. God knows ! I want to find 
 the key to it all, if I can. If she loved books, if 
 she could interest herself in my pursuits, so that I 
 could be more of a companion to her ! But she 
 poor little heart ! had a youth and early train- 
 ing which cut her ofF from all intellectual study 
 and association, and the taste for it is not there. 
 Millicent, I sometimes fear that the thought that 
 I wronged that generous soul in marrying her will 
 be the sorrow of my future life. I even fear 
 O God, how good it is to pour into another human 
 heart the sadness and the fears so long shut close 
 in mine ! " He was silent a moment, then went 
 on : "I even fear that what I said just now about 
 marrying her as much for her sake as for my own 
 may be a self-deception, for I was a coward when I 
 did it. I was worn out with wanting, with try-
 
 STRUAN 301 
 
 ing to still what was the supreme craving of my 
 nature, the craving for the human complement 
 of myself. I knew that in this marriage I gave 
 up the idea of intellectual companionship and 
 equality, which could only have been found in a 
 woman whose tastes and ideas were similar to my 
 own. This thought did stand up to be wrestled 
 with, but I put it down with the thought of 
 Jenny's love for me and need of me ; and I knew 
 that, if love and tenderness could make her happy, 
 these should never lack. They never have and 
 never shall, but whether they are enough is the 
 thought that has begun to trouble me now." 
 
 Millicent looked at him with a deep and search- 
 ing sympathy. 
 
 " You have not told me any positive reason 
 that you have for believing that she is not satis- 
 fied," she said. " Have you any tangible one ? " 
 
 " A little while ago I should have answered 
 no," he said. " Now I must say yes. I have long 
 felt vaguely that her life was wearisome to her; 
 but since she went away I have had a letter from 
 her, asking if I would seriously object to her car- 
 rying out her old idea of going on the stage. I 
 have given her lessons constantly, and she has 
 trained and developed her voice so that she could, 
 with her decidedly pretty face and figure, make
 
 302 STRUAN 
 
 an undoubted success in such a career j but I did 
 not know she still clung to the idea, and it was a 
 blow to me to find out that she did." 
 
 " What did you answer her ? " 
 
 " I wrote her that she was always free to do as 
 she chose. I have an abhorrence of the marriage 
 which orders and coerces. At the same time I 
 told her that it would grieve me deeply to see 
 her in the environment that I knew so well and 
 that she was so ignorant of; and I begged her 
 to question her own heart, and tell me what her 
 motive was. She has all the money that she 
 wants, and it cannot be that. I ended by making 
 it the appeal of love that she would not leave me, 
 even temporarily, for a life which I should so 
 strongly deprecate and object to for her. I am 
 waiting now for her answer, and I cannot doubt 
 that she will respect my wish and respond to my 
 appeal. When she comes back, I will make a 
 fresh endeavor to give interest and pleasure to 
 her life ; and now, with you to help me with a 
 woman's tact and insight, I have a better chance 
 than ever before to succeed." 
 
 " I will help you with all my heart and soul," 
 she said in her sweet and thrilling voice. She 
 had got the better of her own selfish longings, 
 and said these words with deep sincerity. " I hope
 
 STRUAN 303 
 
 she will not stay away too long. My aunt has 
 written that she is thinking of a journey to the 
 East ; and, if she goes, I am obliged to join her, 
 and go with her. She is not strong in health, and 
 she could not go without me. A telegram might 
 summon me to her at very short notice, so I 
 cannot make any future plans of my own. But, 
 if I can help you in this way, I shall be glad and 
 thankful. I would gladly stay to do it, but my 
 aunt's claim upon me is the one I cannot ignore." 
 
 Struan looked at her steadily in the quiet even- 
 ing light which was beginning to spread its gloom 
 throughout the room. 
 
 " I had not thought of your going away so 
 soon," he said. "You seem to have only just 
 risen on the horizon. I find myself unprepared 
 for such a possibility. O Millicent, it is good to 
 have known you," he added with a deep indrawn 
 sigh. " It is good to have looked on such a pa- 
 tient life. I have been impatient in mine, and I 
 am punished. Not only have I failed to realize the 
 magnificent dream of marriage which I once had, 
 but I have a harder consciousness than that to 
 bear about with me. I have stood in the way of 
 the realization of a dream of marriage in another 
 ^fe, which, though different from my ideal, might 
 yet have made the happiness of two other people.
 
 304 STRUAN 
 
 My punishment is right, but it is hard. What 
 I cannot understand, what is so terrible to me, is 
 that she should have to suffer. She was so young 
 and ignorant that I should have judged for her. 
 It was my weakness that kept me from seeing, 
 and yet it was weakness which came from strength, 
 from the mightiness of this need of love that is in 
 my nature. It has been denied and disappointed 
 all my life, but it springs up stronger after each 
 defeat. Never has it been so vigorous and so 
 dominating as it is now, and never has my life 
 seemed more bereft." 
 
 Millicent's eyes kindled with a beautiful, tender 
 smile. 
 
 " Lucien," she said, " perhaps I can comfort 
 you, dear cousin and dear friend. You blame 
 your lack of patience for what you feel to-day ; 
 but I can prove to you, perhaps, that you are 
 wrong in this. You praise the patience of my 
 life, and yet the same unrest and lack are mine. 
 Do you imagine it is any comfort to me to say 
 now : c At least, my skirts are clean. I have been 
 prudent and wise, and have taken care that no 
 troublesome remorse should mar my self-com- 
 placency ' ? I can assure you there seems no 
 nobleness and no comfort in that to me. I have 
 once or twice been near to a mistaken marriage
 
 STRUAN 305 
 
 myself, but the elements which prevailed with you 
 were lacking with me. You were moved by the 
 fear of paining and depriving another soul. I was 
 egotistical, and considered myself first. I de- 
 clined to take one atom less than my ideal for fear 
 that afterward it might be my fate to meet with 
 a man who was all I had desired, and to see my 
 mistake too late. Well," she added after a 
 pause, " I have been patient, and waited. I am 
 forty years old ; and my life is, as you see it, 
 empty. Not that I am unable to take pleasure in 
 much that comes, and sometimes I can give help 
 to others ; and that is not only comfort, but joy. 
 Still, I am certain of this : that there is abso- 
 lutely no compensation in life for a woman who 
 misses love. There is work and the pleasure that 
 that brings, and there is much enjoyment in grati- 
 fying the intellectual tastes. Then, too, there is 
 that grand comfort which comes from the con- 
 sciousness of power to endure, which we were 
 speaking of just now. All these there are which 
 make life abundantly worth living ; but compen- 
 sation for the lack of love, there is none. I have 
 known it always, and I have been stronger for the 
 knowledge." 
 
 Struan did not answer. 
 
 " An old maid ! " she said with a sudden grimace
 
 306 STRUAN 
 
 and smile. " I wonder why it is that not only the 
 name, but the idea, has something funny in it. It 
 has been said that it takes a superior woman to 
 make an old maid, for almost every woman must 
 have at least one opportunity to escape the ob- 
 loquy of it. Bless their dear absurd hearts, how 
 I yearn over the entire species ! How often I 
 have watched a batch of these dear women patter- 
 ing about in picture galleries abroad, studying 
 their Baedekers, and airing their smattering of for- 
 eign tongues, and trying so bravely to pad out 
 their collapsing lives ! And then, again, to see 
 them accentuating the emptiness of a great city 
 church at an early service, where so often I have 
 made one of them, seeking the slaking of soul- 
 thirst, the comfort for loss, the support through 
 trial, which, I believe, women feel more than men ! 
 Men are stronger than women, or weaker, I don't 
 know which ! They are bolder in getting what 
 they want ; but perhaps it is braver to renounce, 
 as women do. Oh, it's all a mystery ; and I don't 
 know what to make of it. I only know that there 
 is great comfort in having got to a place in life 
 where one accepts mystery, and one is satisfied to 
 do the best one can, without asking to see any- 
 thing clearly, except that it is right to be good. 
 I might be asked to define what I mean by right
 
 STRUAN 307 
 
 and good ; but I have a strong conviction that no 
 man or woman need be in doubt about that, if 
 they honestly question their own souls. It must 
 be right to consider others more than ourselves. 
 It must be wrong to take happiness at the cost of 
 pain to others. It must be right to be faithful to 
 our obligations, and wrong to try to shirk their 
 consequences. A few plain leadings such as these 
 all souls are given, and they are enough. And, as 
 for the old maids that I was talking about before 
 I got off on this moralizing track, I have a feeling 
 for them that makes me wish that I could take 
 them all to my heart, and hide their eyes on my 
 breast, so that they might not see the smiles of 
 the world at their expense, nor my own smile 
 over the tops of their aggregate heads, either ! " 
 
 As she smiled in reality, Struan said with a 
 reflection of her smile : 
 
 " Are you an old maid, Millicent ? There is 
 something ridiculous in the term as applied to 
 you." 
 
 " Yes, isn't there ? I can see it myself. Oh, 
 dear, how long, I wonder ? Twice forty is eighty. 
 I can't live to be over eighty, in all conscience. 
 My long journey must be certainly half done." 
 
 " Are you tired of it ? " 
 
 " Not usually. At this moment, yes, pro-
 
 STRUAN 
 
 foundly. I'd let it go without a qualm just now. 
 Don't let that make you uneasy, however. To- 
 morrow morning I'll probably value it above 
 rubies." 
 
 He looked at her fixedly. 
 
 " The very fulness of life and love may come 
 to you yet," he said. 
 
 " Oh, I can do without it. Never mind me," 
 she said with a light laugh. u I'm not such a 
 weakling that I can't pick up my burden, and 
 trundle along with the procession. You and I, 
 remember, have been given the gift which we 
 both think equal to the best, the power to en- 
 dure. I'm not dissatisfied with life, except in 
 weak moments when I choose to let myself give 
 way ; and then I always know that I'll come to 
 very soon." 
 
 " No, you are brave. I know that ; but I can 
 see no reason why, after renunciation, you may 
 not have joy." 
 
 Millicent did not answer except by a disbeliev- 
 ing head-shake. She sat silent a moment. Then, 
 noticing that the shadows had deepened in the 
 room, she stood up. 
 
 " It will soon be time for Bonnemaman's early 
 Sunday tea," she said. " We must go and get 
 ready for it,"
 
 STRUAN 309 
 
 He rose also ; and they stood facing each other, 
 their eyes penetrating the still gloom. 
 
 " Millicent," he said, " your words this after- 
 noon have comforted my very soul with a comfort 
 far removed from thoughts of self. A strange 
 foreboding overhangs me now, a sort of dread 
 of more pain to come. You have opened to me 
 a larger view of life beyond my own. You have 
 helped me more than you dream of." 
 
 He held out his hand, and Millicent put hers 
 into it. It was the first time he had touched her 
 hand, except in formal greeting or farewell ; and 
 its brief clasp now was as firm and cheering as 
 that of a friendly boy.
 
 XXIV 
 
 SEVERAL days went by, marked chiefly by 
 progress on the picture. Millicent worked 
 hard during the morning hours, but the sit- 
 tings were usually almost silent. They seemed 
 not to have a great deal to say to each other ; and 
 Millicent, at her easel, was always an absorbed 
 worker. 
 
 In the afternoons they usually had visitors. 
 Old friends, whom Millicent had known abroad, 
 and new ones, of her grandmother's circle, took to 
 driving out and having tea with them. 
 
 Miss Evleth was disposed to show some im- 
 patience of these guests, until she found that it 
 gave her an opportunity of watching Struan in his 
 attitude and intercourse with others. 
 
 There was no one he could not talk to with 
 an air of interest, no subject he could not il- 
 lumine; and she allowed herself to yield to the 
 impulse of silence that came to her, as she 
 watched and listened to him. Her reputation as 
 an agreeable talker suffered from it, but nothing 
 was more indifferent to Millicent now than the 
 maintenance of that reputation. 
 310
 
 STRUAN 311 
 
 Struan's week of holiday, during which he had 
 not even once gone into town, was nearly over. 
 The portrait, which aimed at being nothing more 
 than an impression, was carried about as far as its 
 author felt that she could go. 
 
 One evening, about ten, when Mrs. Milner 
 had gone off to bed, Struan and Millicent were 
 in the drawing-room alone. He had been play- 
 ing to her, and the candles were lighted on 
 the piano. Otherwise, the large room was in 
 shadow. Struan was still seated on the piano- 
 stool, and Millicent was in a large chair near by, 
 when a servant brought the evening mail, just 
 out from town. 
 
 Most of the letters were for Struan, but there 
 was one for Millicent from Leonard. She tore it 
 open eagerly and read it through, while Struan oc- 
 cupied himself with his own letters. 
 
 " What a wonderful being Leonard is ! " she 
 said presently, with enthusiasm. " How intensely 
 he feels ! How loyally he loves ! And how 
 wildly he idealizes ! Do read this," she added, 
 holding out the letter to him. " Read it aloud. I 
 can stand anything from Len ; and that is so sweet, 
 and so like his very self." 
 
 Struan read it in his deep-toned voice that al- 
 ways sounded to Millicent as if it were a strain of
 
 312 STRUAN 
 
 music attuned to those orchestral accompaniments 
 that he had so often led. 
 This was the letter : 
 
 Dearest Millicent, I have been away nearly a week. 
 I'll miss you always just the same; and I am always your 
 own true knight, though so unworthy of your love. How 
 I love you, Millicent! I can only quiver as the ugly duck- 
 ling quivered when the beautiful, pure swans swam out to 
 greet him. I feel so great and yet so small. Millicent, let 
 me tell you of a thought I had the other day, when I was 
 in one of my moods of black wretchedness that you have so 
 often helped me through. I was passionately praying to 
 God for help (it was in the dead of night), when I seemed 
 to see a great chasm running straight up in a point and 
 reaching heaven. From this a light came leaping down the 
 darkness until it touched the earth at my feet; and a voice 
 said plainly: " You are being tried to see if you are worthy 
 of one talent or of ten. Fight a brave fight, and you have 
 my help." 
 
 Of course, dearest, I did not really see and hear this; but 
 the sound was in my ears from somewhere, and the thought 
 was printed on my hot forehead as a kiss is sometimes 
 pressed upon a man's head by some dear and comforting 
 one in the hour of trial. Oh, what happiness it brought to 
 me! It seemed io promise me that God was going to help 
 me to do something great with my life. I must try to 
 remember what you told me about not flooding all the little 
 dykes and meadows, but going back into the real river and 
 flowing straight and strong. 
 
 O Millicent, how you have helped me! How I love 
 you! how I worship you! You are like a blade of pure
 
 STRUAN 313 
 
 tteel, so clean, so true, so bright, so trustworthy, and kept 
 in such a tender, lovely tinted silk case that little babies 
 may fondle it and be as free with it as with the hands of 
 their mothers! 
 
 " There, that will do," said Millicent, taking 
 the letter back. " That was the part I wanted 
 you to read. To me that boy seems to have 
 something divine in him. I feel that he is to be 
 the greatest comfort of my future life. You will 
 let me have him with me a great deal, won't you, 
 Lucien ? You will trust him to me ? " 
 
 " He is yours, and you are his, by a right too 
 high for me to question," Struan said. " But I 
 can tell you this, in securing you for his friend 
 and guide, he has got what I value for him more 
 than anything else in life. Surely, you well know 
 that." 
 
 He spoke with great earnestness ; and yet Milli- 
 cent became aware that he was in some way pre- 
 occupied, and looked excited. She now observed 
 that he had put down on the piano the letter 
 which he had read, and was holding in his hand 
 one that was unopened. 
 
 Instantly the thought flashed through her whom 
 it was probably from, and why he had hesitated 
 before opening it. 
 
 " I am thirsty," she said. " I will go and get 
 some water, and leave you to read your letter."
 
 3H STRUAN 
 
 He seemed about to protest, but then changed 
 his mind, and said quickly : 
 
 " Yes, go if you like ; but promise to come 
 back. I shall want you to know the contents of 
 this letter. It is from my wife." 
 
 Millicent left the room. As she crossed the 
 hall, she looked back, and saw him tear the letter 
 open with an eager decision, at variance with his 
 recent hesitation. 
 
 She drank some water from the pitcher in the 
 dining-room ; and then, going over to the window, 
 she stood there, and looked out into the night. 
 
 Over the points of two tall evergreens, that rose 
 above a black mass of shrubbery like the steeples 
 of a church, the full moon and one great planet 
 blazed in the clear air. She looked coldly at the 
 still moon, and then, with a quickening of feel- 
 ing, at the pulsating star. She wondered why she 
 had always loved the stars so much better than the 
 moon. It was almost as if they were persons, and 
 the moon was a thing. Was it because the latter 
 was known to be burnt out, and devoid of life, in 
 its brilliant, cold placidity, while the former might 
 be filled with a vivider life and light than our 
 imaginings could picture, the life that seemed to 
 quiver in that star yonder, like a restless heart ? 
 
 The influence of those radiant lights above or
 
 STRUAN 315 
 
 of that struggling soul across the hall so over- 
 whelmed her with a sudden sadness that she felt 
 an impulse to be completely alone ; and she de- 
 cided to go and say good-night to Struan, and get 
 away as quickly and as quietly as she could. 
 
 When she returned to the drawing-room, Struan 
 was still seated on the piano-stool, his body side- 
 ways toward the instrument, and his elbow resting 
 on the base of the music-rack, his head on his 
 hand. The other hand lay on his knee, with the 
 open letter in it, which he had finished reading. 
 Millicent saw that his face was pale and his eyes 
 excited. 
 
 He turned as she came in, and, sitting tensely 
 upright, said, in a voice which she knew it cost 
 him an effort to control : 
 
 "Something has happened, Millicent, some- 
 thing that is a severe blow to me. You must 
 help me to think what can be done. Read this 
 letter, if you wouldn't mind." 
 
 He gave her the letter, and then went away to 
 the other end of the room, and stood before the 
 window, looking out, in his turn, at the moon and 
 the star. 
 
 But he had not even the consciousness that he 
 saw them, in the keen preoccupation of his 
 thoughts.
 
 316 STRUAN 
 
 Millicent, meanwhile, was reading the letter. 
 
 The handwriting in itself was a shock to her. 
 It was the round, unformed, uncertain hand of 
 a child. The very paper had a significance of its 
 own. The letter ran thus : 
 
 Dear Struan, I know you will be awfully surprised, 
 and I'm afraid you'll be mad, too, when you hear what 
 I have done ; but it's done for certain, and I hope you'll 
 save yourself and me a lot of useless trouble, and not 
 make a fuss about it when it's too late to do any good. 
 The opportunity of my life has come to me here, and 
 I was not going to be such an idiot as not to take ad- 
 vantage of it. Now don't be mad, and I'll tell you all 
 about it. Ida was going to San Francisco, and I decided 
 to go with her for a little lark; and, as I was there (or rather 
 here), I thought it would do no harm to consult a big man- 
 ager, I happened to meet, about my voice. I told him I 
 was only considering the matter about going on the stage, 
 and might never do it ; but he was perfectly lovely, and 
 said he would try my voice at once. I think it was my 
 telling him that I was a pupil of yours that made him take 
 an interest, though he told Ida before that that I was 
 "a daisy from daisy-land." Of course, you'll think this 
 a vulgar expression; and I'm not telling it out of vanity, 
 only you know how important looks are to a singer. 
 
 Well, I never hinted that you were anything more to me 
 than my teacher; and Ida has kept the secret faithfully. 
 He didn't ask any troublesome questions, as I was afraid 
 he might, though you know you can trust my wits. The 
 upshot was that he heard me sing, and made me a rattling
 
 STRUAN 317 
 
 good offer. I had to take it at once, or let it be given to 
 some one else, which would have broken my heart. Ida 
 said you'd get reconciled when the thing was done and 
 over, that men might talk forever, but they always came 
 round in the end. 
 
 Well, I signed the contract, learned my part, and I've 
 sung two nights. I tried to write you sooner, but you 
 know what a mad rush I've been in. I had not only to 
 study my part, but also to get my costumes, which are 
 stunning. Besides, I wanted to let' you know that I was 
 really a success. When you read the notices I enclose, I 
 hope they may reconcile you. Now do be reasonable, and 
 write me a nice letter. This engagement is only for five 
 weeks, and I need not make another until we have talked 
 it over. But, honestly, you ought not to try to keep me 
 from what makes me so happy. I don't interfere with you, 
 and you oughtn't to interfere with me. I tell you frankly 
 that your friends are not my sort. They wouldn't like me 
 any better than I'd like them. Please don't think of com- 
 ing to see me. It would only upset me. You ought to 
 be satisfied, as you've always said you cared so much for 
 me to be happy; and I'm in such a state of bliss now that I 
 can hardly sleep for joy. You will see by the cuttings 
 I enclose that I've got a new name, so no one will know 
 who I am. If you could send me a telegram to say it's all 
 right, I think I should like that better than a letter, because, 
 if you wrote, you might try to change my mind; and you'd 
 only bother and distress me. Cheer up now, and go about 
 among your friends, and be happy. I'm sure I don't 
 grudge you any pleasure that you care for, and you 
 oughtn't to grudge me. You ought to be satisfied to 
 know how happy I am, Yours lovingly, 
 
 JENNY.
 
 STRUAN 
 
 Millicent folded the letter, and replaced it in its 
 envelope. As she did so, she caught sight of sev- 
 eral newspaper clippings on the floor. Plainly, 
 they had not even been read. 
 
 Looking across the room, she saw him standing 
 with his hands in his pockets, the curtains pushed 
 aside by his elbows, and looking out into the 
 night. Her heart swelled with pity for him. She 
 called his name, and he turned and came toward 
 her. His face looked haggard and almost old. 
 
 " Lucien," she said, as he placed himself again 
 on the piano-stool, " this is very bitter to you. I 
 know it. I will not be so foolish as to make light 
 of it. But what will you do about it, dear ? How 
 can I help you ? I am trying to think. Will 
 you make any effort to stop her ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. Authority seems to me the 
 last and lowest appeal between man and wife. If 
 my wish was not enough, there is nothing more 
 to be said. Neither shall I go to see her, since 
 she objects to it. What I must do immediately 
 is to see that she has some friend, some older 
 woman, to be with her all the time, a woman 
 capable of taking care of her health and looking 
 after her conduct, too. If she errs in that, it will 
 be through ignorance ; but she is heedless and 
 impulsive, and doesn't know what it is necessary
 
 STRUAN 319 
 
 for her to do and not to do. I could never have 
 dreamed that this would happen. I ought not to 
 have married that young creature, whose youthful 
 ardor I took for a real and enduring devotion. I 
 ought not to have silenced the inward monition 
 which told me I was making another mistake. 
 My own share of pain I can bear ; but to have 
 for the second time involved another in such a 
 misfortune is hard almost too hard. I must, 
 at all costs, guard that young being who so freely 
 trusted me. I will go to town early to-morrow, 
 and see what can be done." 
 
 Millicent sat silent for some moments. Then : 
 " O Lucien," she said wistfully, " if I could 
 only use up all the capacity that is in me by giv- 
 ing you some real help now ! If I could only be 
 freed, at a blow, from all the superficial obstacles 
 that stand in the way, and have the necessary ob- 
 scurity of name and position, and have at the 
 same time widowhood or matronhood, or what- 
 ever is required to make me the sort of chaperon 
 you want ! You may think I am joking ; but, 
 upon my honor, I'd do anything possible to be 
 able to give real practical help to you now. I 
 seem," she said with a sudden fierceness, " to be 
 under a sort of curse, a curse of impotence! 
 I can never do anything. My utmost always
 
 320 STRUAN 
 
 seems to be to forbear. I have held myself back 
 for some opportunity to do something with my 
 life, but the opportunity never comes, and it never 
 will. O Lucien, you will do me the greatest 
 benefit any human being has ever done me if you 
 will show me how to help you now." 
 
 He did not speak at once. Turning full toward 
 her, he caught one of his knees between his 
 clasped hands, throwing his body backward as he 
 sat on the music-stool ; and, with his arms 
 strained to this tense position and his keen eye 
 narrowed to a deep intensity of gaze, he looked at 
 her. She met his look with earnest candor. 
 
 " Millicent," he said, " never have I been more 
 unhappy than I am now. Never has life seemed 
 more dark on eveiy side. But you and your 
 friendship pierce the gloom with the light of a 
 fixed star. The knowledge of you now is all I 
 have to save me from despair." 
 
 Millicent's eyes filled. 
 
 " O Lucien," she said, " trust God. Have 
 hope." 
 
 " I can trust him better because he has testified 
 to me of his existence by you. I can hope, too, 
 since I know that such a soul as yours lives in a 
 human body. Without this knowledge men and 
 women would seem to me now completely base,
 
 STRUAN 321 
 
 and their unworthiness of a life to come would 
 make the thought of that life seem an absurdity. 
 How can you say, then, that you have not helped 
 me ? You don't believe that now ? " 
 
 " No," she said, very pale, and speaking with a 
 sort of breathlessness. " I believe what you say, 
 and it frightens me. O Lucien, perhaps, if you 
 knew my whole life better, you would change your 
 mind about me. I am as little as possible like a 
 fixed and always clearly shining star. There have 
 been times when evil has almost conquered good 
 in me, when I have been so lost in the clouds 
 of selfishness and wilfulness that no human being 
 
 D 
 
 could have got a ray of light from me. Don't, I 
 implore you, think me better than I am. There 
 have been times in my life which I cannot bear 
 the thought of your eyes upon." 
 
 " I know it. It is clearly revealed to me. The 
 body of Moses is in your beautiful face, and I see 
 the traces of the struggle between God and the 
 devil. But don't you see, can't you understand, 
 how that endears you to me ? I have learned this 
 much from life, to count mere personal rectitude 
 very little. It may save one's own soul as it 
 saves one's body ; but what of the souls and 
 bodies of others ? The people who have never 
 done any harm have probably done as little good.
 
 322 STRUAN 
 
 To keep one's own skirts clear is surely a small 
 result for the glorious opportunities that life 
 affords. Give me rather generous faults, 
 wrongs committed and repented of! For sin 
 itself has its noble use in God's great plan for 
 man. It strengthens his moral muscles, and it 
 gives him insight and power to help others. 
 Compared to this, what is blamelessness ? It is 
 the attribute of the infant, the humming-bird, the 
 flower ! Whether it is the attribute of the angels 
 or not we don't know ; but, if we ever come to be 
 inhabitants of heaven, one thing we shall surely 
 see, that victory is better than innocence ; and, 
 without sin, victory could not be. All this would 
 appear to some too daring ; but I have a high 
 precedent for it, at least. David was the man 
 after God's own heart, and Mary Magdalen was 
 the friend of Christ." 
 
 " Oh, what strong, what helpful, what inspiring 
 words ! " said Millicent, her eyes filling with tears. 
 44 Surely, they are our greatest benefactors who give 
 us thoughts by which our souls grow and our 
 hearts get courage. This is the very best that 
 human beings can do for each other, Lucien, 
 better than love itself! " 
 
 He looked at her, a long, penetrating gaze ; and 
 then he said abruptly :
 
 STRUAN 323 
 
 "You have said that to give me the courage 
 which you see my need of in this hour. But are 
 you right, Millicent ? Is anything so good as 
 love ? " 
 
 " Nothing so sweet," she said, " nothing so 
 satisfying to the human need. But the divine is 
 in us, as well as the human ; and to obey that is 
 better than anything. Often what it teaches is 
 the renunciation of love. Of one thing I am cer- 
 tain : if we are not able to do without it, we are 
 not worthy to have it." 
 
 Still his eyes held hers with that searching, con- 
 centrated look, as he answered : 
 
 "Your lips are uttering what the divine voice 
 within is whispering to my soul. My life has 
 been a long struggle, Millicent ; but to-night I 
 give it up. All my life I have been a seeker after 
 love. It seemed, for me, the one indispensable 
 good. From to-night I give up the search. You 
 have put into words the consciousness in my soul 
 that there is something better. To find that must 
 be, for the future, my object and my end." 
 
 " Thank God ! " she said, her firm voice slightly 
 shaken. "O Lucien, if you ever pray, and I 
 know you do pray in your soul, whether with your 
 lips and on your knees or not, ask God to give 
 me courage for my life, too. I know that he
 
 324 STRUAN 
 
 will not fail me ; but, oh, I do need help ! I have 
 had the same end before me as yours, love, love, 
 love, beyond everything ; and I don't believe I, 
 either, ever quite gave it up until to-night. But I 
 am not strong, as you are. I am only a woman, 
 with no career, no work, no influence ; and often 
 it will go hard with me." 
 
 " No influence ? Let me tell you something. 
 If I had ever influenced a human life as you have 
 influenced mine, if I had ever put such faith in 
 God and man into any human heart as you have 
 put into mine, I should think it work, career, 
 achievement enough, if there was nothing else 
 that I had done." 
 
 Millicent smiled. A look of radiant joy ban- 
 ished the clouds of disturbance and doubt her face 
 had shown ; and with the impulsiveness of a child 
 she exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, I'm very happy. God is good. Life is 
 good. Renunciation is sweet, as well as bitter." 
 
 He smiled in answer. 
 
 " We should both be happy in this hour," he 
 said ; " for we have both been able to prefer a 
 higher will to our own, or rather to merge our 
 wills into the higher. This hour has given you to 
 me, Millicent, in a sense most real and precious, 
 a sense in which you will be forever mine, and I
 
 STRUAN 325 
 
 yours. Never have I felt so sure, so steadfast, 
 so firm upon my feet as I feel now ; and to you I 
 shall owe this forever. Yes, as you say, life is 
 good, if we make it so ; and there is more life and 
 fuller beyond." 
 
 For a moment neither spoke. They only 
 looked into each other's eyes. 
 
 Presently Struan said, "Would it disturb any 
 one if I played to you ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. Do play. It would com- 
 fort us both, I think." 
 
 They were as much alone as if they had been 
 in a desert. Millicent sank back in her deep 
 chair, and turned her face against its padded side, 
 so that she might look at him. His profile only 
 was in her view. He had a way of looking up- 
 ward when he was playing, and she could see the 
 curve of his strong throat coming out of its low 
 collar. He had none of the nervous movements 
 common to most pianists, but kept his head so 
 still, except when he occasionally looked down at 
 his hands, that she could trace every change of 
 expression in eyes and brows and lips. 
 
 Sometimes his gaze was turned only upon the 
 picture which hung over the piano ; but once, 
 once only, he turned it upon her. He did not 
 stop playing as he did so, but struck unerringly
 
 326 STRUAN 
 
 the sounding chords of some great harmony while 
 he turned his face toward her, and held her eyes 
 with that poignant gaze. 
 
 Their faces were very near, and he could see 
 that Millicent's eyes had tears in them. As his 
 arms moved from place to place over the key- 
 board, while he played, now loud, now low, his 
 body was still, and the direction of his eyes un- 
 changing. 
 
 The two tears overflowed and rolled down Mil- 
 licent's cheeks, but she was motionless in every 
 muscle. He bent a little nearer to her ; and some- 
 thing in his glance compelled her to lean forward 
 also, so that their faces were very near, and their 
 eyes could read each other deep. The music was 
 so soft that she could hear her own thick heart- 
 beats ; but all through this long moment that low 
 harmony went on, without the slurring of a note. 
 
 At last, in a great chord of deep resounding 
 sweetness, it ceased ; and Struan rose to his feet. 
 
 Millicent got up, too ; and they stood facing 
 each other. 
 
 She felt her two hands taken in a strong clasp, 
 and heard him say in a voice that was as strong : 
 
 " There, Millicent. I feel now that there is 
 not a film between my soul and yours. I am 
 not afraid of life, with your faith to keep me
 
 STRUAN 327 
 
 strong. Let my faith help you, too. Some time, 
 in years to come, we will speak together of this 
 hour, and of the fruits of it in both our lives." 
 
 As he stood an instant longer so, holding her 
 hands and looking into her eyes, she smiled. He 
 smiled in answer, a smile as inscrutable as hers. 
 Yet they understood each other ; for their hands 
 clasped yet more warmly for a second, and then 
 they parted. 
 
 Struan was long in going to sleep that night ; 
 but he was calm, composed, and resolute as to the 
 future. But Millicent was a woman, and her 
 heart was torn with woman pangs. So, while he 
 lay there planning his course of action in a life 
 which would divide him from her forever, she lay 
 in a room near by, and shook from head to foot 
 with sobs. Her spirit had not weakened, her 
 purpose had not faltered ; but she was bewildered, 
 hungry, and alone, and she cried there in the dark- 
 ness, like a little helpless child.
 
 XXV 
 
 NEXT morning, when Miss Evleth's coffee 
 was brought in to her, there was a black- 
 lettered, yellow envelope among the mail 
 matter on her tray. She reached to get it ; but, 
 before her hand touched it, she had recognized the 
 writing on another envelope which had neither 
 stamp nor post-mark. 
 
 Making some pretext to send her maid away, 
 she put her coffee by untasted, and opened Struan's 
 note. It enclosed a telegram, and ran : 
 
 I am taking first train for San Francisco. Say nothing 
 to Leonard. I will write to him and to you later. The 
 enclosed will explain all. 
 
 The telegram within the letter simply stated 
 that Jenny had been injured in the burning of the 
 Star Theatre in San Francisco. It was signed 
 Ida Wallis. 
 
 For some moments Millicent remained motion- 
 less, this telegram in her hand. She had read it 
 several times before she remembered the other 
 telegram. This proved to be from her aunt, and 
 was in these words : 
 
 328
 
 STRUAN 329 
 
 Come as soon as possible. All arrangements made. 
 
 Within a week of that morning Millicent sailed 
 for Europe. Leonard came to say good-by and 
 see her off. They had had tidings from Struan 
 that Jenny's injury was a most serious one. She 
 might live, but, if so, would be a cripple for life. 
 
 As Millicent and Leonard were parting on the 
 deck of the steamer, the hearts of both were pro- 
 foundly sad. She tried to say some brave words 
 to him, but voice and spirit seemed to falter ; and 
 she could only promise to write soon and often, 
 and to love him always. 
 
 When the notice came for visitors to leave the 
 ship, she raised her face and kissed him, the tears 
 overflowing her eyes. He wrung her hand and 
 went, without a word. 
 
 She watched him on the wharf, pushing his way 
 through the surging crowd, his great height mak- 
 ing him easily distinguishable. Once he turned, 
 and they smiled, each for the sake of the other, 
 and waved a cheerful adieu ; but they knew it was 
 rather a poor effort. She watched him still, es- 
 caped from the crowd, walking with his great 
 stride, and pounding the ground with his stick, 
 unconscious of everything around him, but con- 
 scious, as she knew, of a deep loneliness within.
 
 330 STRUAN 
 
 After the ship had sailed, a telegram was handed 
 her, which had been brought on board at the last 
 moment. It was from Struan, and its message 
 was that Jenny was dead. 
 
 This brief announcement, and the unexpected 
 feeling which she knew had gone into it, touched 
 Millicent to tenderness and tears. What a great 
 loneliness his life had been all through ! How 
 lonely all lives seemed ! For such natures as 
 theirs Struan's and Leonard's and her own 
 there was no cure for this loneliness except in the 
 complement of self by union with its human mate. 
 Struan had missed that consummation. She had 
 missed it. Would Leonard attain to it, and would 
 their two lonely hearts have their only vision of 
 joy through him ? 
 
 Her passionate regret for the man was mingled 
 with a passionate hope for the boy, as she stood 
 looking back from the deck of the steamer which 
 was bearing her away from them both into the 
 yet deeper loneliness of a life in which they had 
 no part.
 
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