y and beyond 86

She suddenly stopped running, and turned and waited for him 96

His fingers began to follow an air that flowed with
eternal sadness like blood from a broken heart 120

"She will always be just as I see her now, no
older, untroubled, gentle, and dear" 132

And then carrying her swiftly home, he proceeded to go quite mad 144

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I

Old Martha wondered if the Poor Boy would have a smile for her. He had
had so many in the old days, the baby days, the growing-up days, the
college days, the "world so new and all" days. There were some which she
would always remember. The smile he smiled one Christmas morning, when
he put the grand fur coat around her shoulders, and the kiss on her
cheek. The smile he smiled that day when they met in front of the
photographer's, and he took her in and had their photograph taken
together: she sitting and glaring with embarrassment at the camera, he
standing, his hand on her shoulder, smiling--down on her.

To save her life she could not recall a harsh word in his mouth, a harsh
look in his eyes. In the growing-up days he had been sick a great deal;
but the trustees and the doctors had put their trust in old Martha, and
she had pulled him through. When the pain was too great, her Poor Boy
was always for hiding his face. It was thus that he gathered strength to
turn to her once more, smiling. It was Martha who spoke stories of
princesses and banshees and heroes and witch-wolves through the long
nights when he could not sleep. It was old Martha who drew the tub of
red-hot water that brought him to life, when the doctor said he was
dead.

If he had been her own, she could not have loved him more.

How many hundred cold nights she had left her warm bed, to return, blue
with cold, after seeing that he was well covered! How she had dreaded
the passing of time that brought him nearer and nearer to manhood, in
whose multiple interests and cares old tendernesses and understandings
are so often forgotten. But wherever he went, whatever he did, he had
always an eye of his mind upon Martha's feelings in the matter. She was
old, Irish, unlettered, but as a royal duchess so was she deferred to in
the Poor Boy's great house upon the avenue.

Old Martha had seats for the play whenever she wanted them. And very
hand