so infectious? Who would kiss them with warm lips, and make them happy
by his tenderness? Who would carry them on his wings with him, so that
they did not feel they were weary?

Alas, there is no second youth for those who are childless. Nobody
would come into the inheritance of delight in what was beautiful, of
taste for what was beautiful, of enthusiasm for art and artists which
they would leave behind them. Nobody would guard reverently all those
hundreds of things and nicknacks she had gathered together so
tastefully in her house with the delight of a collector. And nobody
would, alas, hold the hand that was fast growing cold with loving
hands, in that last difficult hour which all dread, and cry: "Father,
Mother, don't go! Not yet!" Oh, God, such loving hands would not close
their eyes----

When Paul Schlieben used to come home from his office in those days
he was co-partner in a large business that his grandfather had founded
and his father raised to a high position--he often found his wife's
sweet face stained with tears, her delicate complexion marred by
constant weeping. And her mouth only forced itself to smile, and in her
beautiful brown eyes there lurked a certain melancholy.

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. The lady was suffering from
nerves, that was what was the matter with her. She had too much
time for brooding, she was left to herself too much.

In order to alter this, her anxious husband withdrew from the
business for an indefinite period. His partners could get on just as
well without him. The doctor was right, he must devote himself more to
his wife; they were both so lonely, so entirely dependent on each
other.

It was decided they should travel; there was no reason whatever why
they should remain at home. The beautiful house was given up, their
furniture, all their costly things were stored. If they cared to do so
they could remain away for years, get impressions, amuse themselves.
Kate would paint landscapes in beautiful countries, and he--well, he
could easily find compensation in writing, should he miss his usual
work.

They went to Italy and Corsica--still further, to Egypt and Greece.
They saw the Highlands, Sweden and Norway, very many beautiful
places.

Kate pressed her husband's hand gratefully. Her susceptible mind
waxed enthusiastic, and her talent for painting, which was by no means
insignificant, felt powerfully stimulated all at once. How splendid to
be able to paint, to