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brought me out. Now, why in the world must you all dash up in this pouring, cold rain? You 're all spatter-wet, Gwendolen, look at your gown!"


"We were just dressing for the Varick dinner when Charles Edward heard," quavered Gwendolen. She clutched aimIessly at the long, mud-spotted tail of her new orchid brocade. "We did n't wait for our motor or call a taxi or anything. We just ran."

time comes, he will burst out, swept past all bounds, royally shameless, brutal in his truth!

"You-you-you!"-the words jerked out of him in tearing gasps-"you thought you did n't count! And you 're the light I see by, you 're the air I breathe. Tell you? Why in thunder should I? Could n't you see for yourself that you 're everything-everything? Don't you know what you 've done for me? You lifted me out of the hell that Gertrude made for me. You 've given me hope, and the chance to forget. You 've saved the soul alive in me. And you think I should have told you all this word by word! Dare say you wanted a blue-print. Why, you -you-you infernal little fool!"

Then, I suppose, the absurd, preposterous pity of it came upon him. Down he went on his knees, and buried his sobbing face in her lap. But Hilda lifted her head. Even as I stumbled from the room, I saw the flame of life flow back into that white face, as if his words had poured the very fire of life into her veins.

I GOT away somehow. I have n't the slightest recollection how. Then I was back in my own house, and sitting somewhat limply by my own fire. And then, with the queerest Alice-in-Wonderland feeling, things began to happen all over again. Up from the hall sounded hurrying steps and loud voices. In came Eliza, with a face of amazement. At her heels rushed my children, Charles Edward and Peter and Gwendolen, all breathless and terror-stricken. They swarmed down on me like three great babies, and shrieked demented questions, and upset my tea. Charles Edward got there first, but Peter unfilially punched him out of the way, and snatched me. Gwendolen sank on the floor and clung to my skirts and crouched there, sobbing great, dreadful, tearing sobs, and crying great, splashy tears all over her face. And Charles Edward gripped my shoulders and kept saying, "O Mother! O Mother!" as if he could never say the words enough.

"Please, children, I'm so tired, don't make such an uproar! Yes, I was a little frightened, but not even singed."

"But you were in that dreadful mob! O Mother, Mother!"

"Well, I got out; at least Hilda

"Bareheaded, of course, and bare shoulders! You 're worse than Norton. Charles Edward, what are you carrying under your arm?"

"I guess it 's Gwen's carriage shoes," said Charles Edward, meekly. "Félicie chased me down the front steps with 'em, and I tucked 'em under my arm."


"You 've tucked all the family wits under your arm, I'd say. Such doings! Don't gulp so, son. I'm just as alive as I ever was. Stop sobbing, Gwen." tried to pet them and scold them ́and pacify them all at once, and it was considerable of a. chore. "Peter, you'll be late for your theater party if you don't hurry. Charles Edward, take off that wet coat, and let Eliza dry it. Gwendolen, look at your slippers. The very idea! Come into my room at once."

Gwendolen followed, quivering, submissive.

"Put on a pair of my black satin slippers. Then you and Charles Edward can go straight on to the Varick dinner. Tut! tut! Of course you will not stay with me to-night. Ridiculous! No, this once it does n't matter if your slippers don't match your gown. Yes, Eliza, you can pull them on, if you tug with all your might."

"Eliza need not tug at all. Your slippers are too large, if anything, Mother." Gwen mopped her eyes and crammed a mauve, silken foot into my narrow shoe. Then she went to my dressing-table, and mopped her blurred face once Through the mirror her eyes met mine with a long, questioning, meaning gaze.


"Was n't Norton terribly alarmed for Hilda, Mother?"

I looked at Gwendolen. She might as well know. Really, she quite deserved to. For that matter, she 'd probably find it all out, anyway.

"I think, Gwen, that Norton is the

most completely happy creature that breathes. Unless it 's Hilda herself." "I see."

Gwendolen patted her fair braids. her fair braids. Through the mirror her keen eyes never left my own.

"And Norton will keep on being happy always, for Hilda has blotted it all out for him-all that misery, all that hateful dread and shame. Norton has built again. He'll live out his days in serenity, in honor. Mother!" Gwen turned on me sharply. "Is it always so? Does it never make any difference to a man, the great, contented simpletons they are? Can they always build again?"

"Yes, they can always build again." "It is n't fair." Gwen's breath came short. There was a baffled, frightened gleam in her eyes. "It's too cruelly unfair! There's only the one real love for us women, only the one April, only the one nest; but the men- Why is it? How can they, Mother?"

"Because they 're men, that 's all. That's the only reason I know, dear."

I looked at Gwendolen.

Yes, I know she 's the magnificent Mrs.

Charles Edward Wentworth, and she is beautiful and high bred and charming, and I stand in awe of her beauty and her charm, just as her little nieces do.. But as she stood there, with her flushed, tense face, her angry, shaking hands, she was n't my imperious daughter-in-law any longer. She was my little, scared girl. And I wanted to take her in my arms, and tell her it was n't true; but the lie would have died in my throat. For Gwendolen knew.

Then Gwendolen spoke. Very quietly she put all our pitiful knowledge into words. The hateful truth that we 've known through all the shadowy centuries, ever since we stood on the windy ledges outside our caves and watched our weary hunter struggle up the cañon, dragging his kill, and knew that in the cave behind us the fire was burning bright, and the meat smoked hot on the stones, and the skins and branches were heaped warm and safe.

"Yes, the men can always build again. And, Mother, I suppose that the only way to save ourselves is to make them so happy -that they don't dare."

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The Spirit of The Century




HIS spirit of truth-seeking with the open mind which is so strikingly the note of these days of changing convention, this spirit of patient, humble searching for what is real in the chaos of discarded old ideas and untried new ones which surrounds us, has not been more nobly exemplified than in the prayer with which Dr. Francis Landey Patton opened the recent dedication ceremonies of the

new Princeton Graduate College. It will be recalled that Dr. Patton preceded

Woodrow Wilson as President of Princeton University, and, until recently, occupied an important chair in that stronghold of conservative Presbyterianism, Princeton Theological Seminary. prayer was in part.

the His

"ALMIGHTY and Eternal God, we come into Thy presence in acknowledgment of our dependence upon Thee, and bring to Thee the grateful homage of our hearts for all Thy goodness. Thou hast made us in Thine image, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth us understanding. We know in part, but our partial knowledge presupposes Thee. Thou art infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in Thy being and in Thine attributes of wisdom and goodness, and our measurements of good and evil are dependent upon our belief in Thee. When we think of the true, the beautiful, and the good, we think of Thee, and when we lose Thee as the superlative of our reason, we are left in doubt respecting the reality of knowledge. and the worth of goodness. We pray Thee to keep alive in our hearts the thought of the living God by the indwelling presence of Thy holy spirit. When we feel that knowledge is uncertain, unstable, and contingent, when we are prone to doubt our intellectual integrity, and to challenge the trustworthiness of truth it

self, help us, O God, to find a sure anchorage in Thee. When we search in vain for truth in the heights, when we fail to find it in the depths, let us know that it is nigh us, even in our hearts. For there, in the secret places of the soul, Thou hast set the thought of the perfect being, than which a greater cannot be conceived.

"Have mercy, Lord, on those who have lost their faith in Thee; pity those who waters, and are trying to quench their

have forsaken Thee, the fountain of living

thirst at cisterns of their own making,

only to find that they are broken cisterns that can hold no water. Help them, as they look upon their own disjointed and unstable opinions and feel uncertain even of the criteria of knowledge; and show them, Lord, that in Thee alone can they their attention away from the things find support for truth or goodness. Turn which the eye can see and the hands can handle, and take them up to the high levels of thought where Thou dost reveal the that at bottom our reason is religious; brightness of Thy face. Show us, O Lord, touch our thoughts with emotion, and turn our intellectual activities into chan

nels of feeling. So shall reflection rise up ties shall minister to devotion; so shall into reverence, and our rational necessiwe no longer wander in the dark valley of doubt, but we will lift up our eyes to the hills from whence cometh our help, and know that our safety cometh from the Lord. So shall we learn that we live and move and have our being in Thee, and that Thou art not far from any one of us.



"Vouchsafe, O Lord, to take this college under Thy gracious care; guide and direct all those to whom is committed the management of its affairs, to the end that all which is taught here, all books which

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