er in a perfect agony of grief. He stood
up and then sat down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I
felt an infinite pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With
a sob he laid his head on my shoulder and cried like a wearied child,
whilst he shook with emotion.

We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above
smaller matters when the mother spirit is invoked. I felt this big
sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it were that of a baby
that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he
were my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it all
was.

After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an
apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me that
for days and nights past, weary days and sleepless nights, he had been
unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of
sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or
with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which his sorrow
was surrounded, he could speak freely.

"I know now how I suffered," he said, as he dried his eyes, "but I do
not know even yet, and none other can ever know, how much your sweet
sympathy has been to me today. I shall know better in time, and
believe me that, though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude will
grow with my understanding. You will let me be like a brother, will
you not, for all our lives, for dear Lucy's sake?"

"For dear Lucy's sake," I said as we clasped hands. "Ay, and for your
own sake," he added, "for if a man's esteem and gratitude are ever
worth the winning, you have won mine today. If ever the future should
bring to you a time when you need a man's help, believe me, you will
not call in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to you to
break the sunshine of your life, but if it should ever come, promise
me that you will let me know."

He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I felt it would
comfort him, so I said, "I promise."

As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a window.
He turned as he heard my footsteps. "How is Art?" he said. Then
noticing my red eyes, he went on, "Ah, I see you have been comforting
him. Poor old fellow! He needs it. No one but a woman can help a
man when he is in trouble of the heart, and he had no one to comfort
him."

He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I saw
the