himself。　　His　work　was　always　clever　and　original；　but　it　was　the
  work　of　an　invalid。
  〃I　shall　never　be　great；〃　he　said　to　me　once。　　〃I　have　such
  wonderful　dreams；　but　when　it　comes　to　working　them　out　there　is
  something　that　hampers　me。　　It　always　seems　to　me　as　if　at　the　last
  moment　a　hand　was　stretched　out　that　clutched　me　by　the　feet。　　I
  long　so；　but　I　have　not　the　strength。　　It　is　terrible　to　be　one　of
  the　weaklings。〃
  It　clung　to　me；　that　word　he　had　used。　　For　a　man　to　know　he　is
  weak；　it　sounds　a　paradox；　but　a　man　must　be　strong　to　know　that。
  And　dwelling　upon　this；　and　upon　his　patience　and　his　gentleness；
  there　came　to　me　suddenly　remembrance　of　that　postscript；　the
  significance　of　which　I　had　not　understood。
  He　was　a　young　man　of　about　three…　or　four…and…twenty　at　the　time。
  His　father　had　died；　and　he　was　living　in　poor　lodgings　in　the　south
  of　London；　supporting　himself　and　his　mother　by　strenuous；　ill…paid
  work。
  〃I　want　you　to　come　with　me　for　a　few　days'　holiday；〃　I　told　him。
  I　had　some　difficulty　in　getting　him　to　accept　my　help；　for　he　was
  very　proud　in　his　sensitive；　apologetic　way。　　But　I　succeeded
  eventually；　persuading　him　it　would　be　good　for　his　work。
  Physically　the　journey　must　have　cost　him　dear；　for　he　could　never
  move　his　body　without　pain；　but　the　changing　landscapes　and　the
  strange　cities　more　than　repaid　him；　and　when　one　morning　I　woke　him
  early　and　he　saw　for　the　first　time　the　distant　mountains　clothed　in
  dawn；　there　came　a　new　light　into　his　eyes。
  We　reached　the　hut　late　in　the　afternoon。　　I　had　made　my
  arrangements　so　that　we　should　be　there　alone。　　Our　needs　were
  simple；　and　in　various　wanderings　I　had　learnt　to　be　independent。　　I
  did　not　tell　him　why　I　had　brought　him　there；　beyond　the　beauty　and
  stillness　of　the　place。　　Purposely　I　left　him　much　alone　there；
  making　ever…lengthening　walks　my　excuse；　and　though　he　was　always
  glad　of　my　return　I　felt　that　the　desire　was　growing　upon　him　to　be
  there　by　himself。
  One　evening；　having　climbed　farther　than　I　had　intended；　I　lost　my
  way。　　It　was　not　safe　in　that　neighbourhood　to　try　new　pathways　in
  the　dark；　and　chancing　upon　a　deserted　shelter；　I　made　myself　a　bed
  upon　the　straw。
  I　found　him　seated　outside　the　hut　when　I　returned；　and　he　greeted
  me　as　if　he　had　been　expecting　me　just　at　that　moment　and　not
  before。　　He　guessed　just　what　had　happened；　he　told　me；　and　had　not
  been　alarmed。　　During　the　day　I　found　him　watching　me；　and　in　the
  evening；　as　we　sat　in　his　favourite　place　outside　the　hut；　he　turned
  to　me。
  〃You　think　it　true？〃　he　said。　　〃That　you　and　I　sat　here　years　ago
  and　talked？〃
  〃I　cannot　tell；〃　I　answered。　　〃I　only　know　that　he　died　here；　if
  there　be　such　a　thing　as　deaththat　no　one　has　ever　lived　here
  since。　　I　doubt　if　the　door　has　ever　been　opened　till　we　came。〃
  〃They　have　always　been　with　me；〃　he　continued；　〃these　dreams。　　But　I
  have　always　dismissed　them。　　They　seemed　so　ludicrous。　　Always　there
  came　to　me　wealth；　power；　victory。　　Life　was　so　easy。〃
  He　laid　his　thin　hand　on　mine。　　A　strange　new　look　came　into　his
  eyesa　look　of　hope；　almost　of　joy。
  〃Do　you　know　what　it　seems　to　me？〃　he　said。　　〃You　will　laugh
  perhaps；　but　the　thought　has　come　to　me　up　here　that　God　has　some
  fine　use　for　me。　　Success　was　making　me　feeble。　　He　has　given　me
  weakness　and　failure　that　I　may　learn　strength。　　The　great　thing　is
  to　be　strong。〃
  SYLVIA　OF　THE　LETTERS。
  Old　Ab　Herrick；　so　most　people　called　him。　　Not　that　he　was　actually
  old；　the　term　was　an　expression　of　liking　rather　than　any　reflection
  on　his　years。　　He　lived　in　an　old…fashioned　houseold…fashioned；
  that　is；　for　New　Yorkon　the　south　side　of　West　Twentieth　Street：
  once　upon　a　time；　but　that　was　long　ago；　quite　a　fashionable
  quarter。　　The　house；　together　with　Mrs。　Travers；　had　been　left　him
  by　a　maiden　aunt。　　An　〃apartment〃　would；　of　course；　have　been　more
  suitable　to　a　bachelor　of　simple　habits；　but　the　situation　was
  convenient　from　a　journalistic　point　of　view；　and　for　fifteen　years
  Abner　Herrick　had　lived　and　worked　there。
  Then　one　evening；　after　a　three　days'　absence；　Abner　Herrick
  returned　to　West　Twentieth　Street；　bringing　with　him　a　little　girl
  wrapped　up　in　a　shawl；　and　a　wooden　box　tied　with　a　piece　of　cord。
  He　put　the　box　on　the　table；　and　the　young　lady；　loosening　her
  shawl；　walked　to　the　window　and　sat　down　facing　the　room。
  Mrs。　Travers　took　the　box　off　the　table　and　put　it　on　the　floorit
  was　quite　a　little　boxand　waited。
  〃This　young　lady；〃　explained　Abner　Herrick；　〃is　Miss　Ann　Kavanagh；
  daughter　ofof　an　old　friend　of　mine。〃
  〃Oh！〃　said　Mrs。　Travers；　and　remained　still　expectant。
  〃Miss　Kavanagh；〃　continued　Abner　Herrick；　〃will　be　staying　with　us
  for〃　　He　appeared　to　be　uncertain　of　the　length　of　Miss　Kavanagh's
  visit。　　He　left　the　sentence　unfinished　and　took　refuge　in　more
  pressing　questions。
  〃What　about　the　bedroom　on　the　second　floor？　　Is　it　ready？　　Sheets
  airedall　that　sort　of　thing？〃
  〃It　can　be；〃　replied　Mrs。　Travers。　　The　tone　was　suggestive　of
  judgment　reserved。
  〃I　think；　if　you　don't　mind；　Mrs。　Travers；　that　we'd　like　to　go　to
  bed　as　soon　as　possible。〃　　From　force　of　habit　Abner　S。　Herrick　in
  speaking　employed　as　a　rule　the　editorial　〃we。〃　　〃We　have　been
  travelling　all　day　and　we　are　very　tired。　　To…morrow　morning〃
  〃I'd　like　some　supper；〃　said　Miss　Kavanagh　from　her　seat　in　the
  window；　without　moving。
  〃Of　course；〃　agreed　Miss　Kavanagh's　host；　with　a　feeble　pretence
  that　the　subject　had　been　on　the　tip　of　his　tongue。　　As　a　matter　of
  fact；　he　really　had　forgotten　all　about　it。　　〃We　might　have　it　up
  here　while　the　room　is　being　got　ready。　　Perhaps　a　little〃
  〃A　soft　boiled　egg　and　a　glass　of　milk；　if　you　please；　Mrs。
  Travers；〃　interrupted　Miss　Kavanagh；　still　from　her　seat　at　the
  window。
  〃I'll　see　about　it；〃　said　Mrs。　Travers；　and　went　out；　taking　the
  quite　small　box　with　her。
  Such　was　the　coming　into　this　story　of　Ann　Kavanagh　at　the　age　of
  eight　years；　or；　as　Miss　Kavanagh　herself　would　have　explained；　had
  the　question　been　put　to　her；　eight　years　and　seven　months；　for　Ann
  Kavanagh　was　a　precise　young　lady。　　She　was　not　beautifulnot　then。
  She　was　much　too　sharp　featured；　the　little　pointed　chin　protruding
  into　space　to　quite　a　dangerous　extent。　　Her　large　dark　eyes　were
  her　one　redeeming　feature。　　But　the　level　brows　above　them　were　much
  too　ready　with　their　frown。　　A　sallow　complexion　and　nondescript
  hair　deprived　her　of　that　charm　of　colouring　on　which　youth　can
  generally　depend　for　attraction；　whatever　its　faults　of　form。　　Nor
  could　it　truthfully　be　said　that　sweetness　of　disposition　afforded
  compensation。
  〃A　self…willed；　cantankerous　little　imp　I　call　her；〃　was　Mrs。
  Travers's　comment；　expressed　after　one　of　the　many　trials　of
  strength　between　them；　from　which　Miss　Kavanagh　had　as　usual　emerged
  triumphant。
  〃It's　her　father；〃　explained　Abner　Herrick；　feeling　himself　unable
  to　contradict。
  〃It's　unfortunate；〃　answered　Mrs。　Travers；　〃whatever　it　is。〃
  To　Uncle　Ab　himself；　as　she　had　come　to　call　him；　she　could　on
  occasion　be　yielding　and　affectionate；　but　that；　as　Mrs。　Travers
  took　care　to　point　out　to　her；　was　a　small　thing　to　her　credit。
  〃If　you　had　the　instincts　of　an　ordinary　Christian　child；〃　explained
  Mrs。　Travers　to　her；　〃you'd　be　thinking　twenty…four　hours　a　day　of
  what　you　could　do　to　repay　him　for　all　his　loving　kindness　to　you；
  instead　of　causing　him；　as　you　know　you　do；　a　dozen　heartaches　in　a
  week。　　You're　an　ungrateful　little　monkey；　and　when　he's　gone
  you'll〃
  Upon　which　Miss　Kavanagh；　not　waiting　to　hear　more；　flew　upstairs
  and；　locking　herself　in　her　own　room；　gave　herself　up　to　howling　and
  remorse；　but　was　careful　not　to　emerge　until　she　felt　bad　tempered
  again；　and　able；　should　opportunity　present　itself；　to　renew　the
  contest　with　Mrs。　Travers　unhampered　by　sentiment。
  But　Mrs。　Travers's　words　had　sunk　in　deeper　than　that　good　lady
  herself　had　hoped　for；　and　one　evening；　when　Abner　Herrick　was
  seated　at　his　desk　penning　a　scathing　indictment　of　the　President
  for　lack　of　firmness　and　decision　on　the　tariff　question；　Ann；
  putting　her　thin　arms　round　his　neck　and　rubbing　her　little　sallow
  face　against　his　right…hand　whisker；　took　him　to　task　on　the
  subject。
  〃You're　not　bringing　me　up　properlynot　as　you　ought　to；〃　explained
  Ann。　　〃You　give　way　to　me　too　much；　and　you　never　scold　me。〃
  〃Not　scold　you！〃　exclaimed　Abner　with　a　certain　warmth　of
  indignation。　　〃Why；　I'm　doing　it　all〃
  〃Not　what　_I_　call　scolding；〃　continued　Ann。　　〃It's　very　wrong　of
  you。　　I　shall　grow　up　horrid　if　you　don't　help　me。〃
  As　Ann　with　great　clearness　pointed　out　to　him；　there　was　no　one
  else　to　undertake　the　job　with　any　chance　of　success。　　If　Abner
  failed　her；　then　she　supposed　there　was　no　hope　for　her：　　she　would
  end　by　becoming　a　wicked　woman；　and　everybody；　including　herself；
  would　hate　her。　　It　was　a　sad　prospect。　　The　contemplation　of　it
  brought　tears　to　Ann's　eyes。
  He　saw　the　justice　of　her　complaint　and　promised　to　turn　over　a　new
  leaf。　　He　honestly　meant　to　do　so；　but；　like　many　another　repentant
  sinner；　found　himself　feeble　before　the　difficulties　of　perf