ing on yards of rosy
silk. Usually Geoffrey read to her while she worked. His story was
nearing the end. He was wearing heavy goggles which gave him an owl-like
appearance, of which he complained.

"It spoils my beauty, Mistress Anne. I am just an ugly gnome who sits at
the feet of the Princess."

"You are not ugly, and you know it. And men shouldn't be vain."

"We are worse than women. Do you know what you look like with all that
silk around you?"

"No."

"Like Aurora. Do you remember that Stevenson speaks of a 'pink dawn'?
Well, you are a pink dawn."

"Please stop talking about me, and read your last chapter. I am so glad
that you have reached the end."

"Because you are tired of hearing it?"

"Because of your poor eyes."

He took off his goggles. "Do my eyes look different? Are they changed
or--dim?"

"They are as bright as stars," and he sighed with relief.

* * * * *

"_And now it was young Michel who whispered, 'God is good! In a moment we
shall see his face, and we shall say to him, "We fought, but there is no
hatred in our hearts. We cannot hate--our brothers----"'_"

That was the end.

"It is a great book," Anne told him solemnly. "It will be a great
success."

He seemed to shrink and grow small in his chair. "It will come--too
late."

She looked up and saw the mood that was upon him. "Oh, you must not--not
that," she said, hurriedly; "if you give up now it will be a losing
fight."

"Don't you suppose that I would fight if I felt that I could win? But
what can a man do with a thing like this that is dragging him down to
darkness?"

"You mustn't be discouraged. Dr. Brooks says that it isn't--inevitable.
You know that he said that, and that the specialist said it."

"I know. But something tells me that I am facing--darkness." He threw up
his head. "Why should we talk of it? Let me tell you rather how much you
have helped me with my book. If it had not been for you I could not have
written it."

"I am glad if I have been of service." Her words sounded formal after the
warmth of his own.

He laughed, with a touch of bitterness. "The Princess serves," he said,
"always and always serves. She never grabs, as the rest of us do, at
happiness."

"I shall grab when it comes," she said, smiling a little, "and I am happy
now, because I am going to wear my pretty gown."

"Which reminds me," he said, quickly, and brought from his pocket a
little box. "Your costu