ace, for shame's sake,
still buried. "It is most amusing and ridiculous, but I feel sorry for
him, too. And when his hands are too trembly, and his eyes too shiny,
why, I lecture him about his life and the wrong way he is going about it
to mend it. But he worships me, I know. His eyes and his hands do not
lie. And it makes me feel grown-up, the thought of it, the very thought
of it; and I feel that I am possessed of something that is by rights my
own--that makes me like the other girls--and--and young women. And,
then, too, I knew that I was not like them before, and I knew that it
worried you. You thought you did not let me know that dear worry of
yours, but I did, and I wanted to--'to make good,' as Martin Eden says."

It was a holy hour for mother and daughter, and their eyes were wet as
they talked on in the twilight, Ruth all white innocence and frankness,
her mother sympathetic, receptive, yet calmly explaining and guiding.

"He is four years younger than you," she said. "He has no place in the
world. He has neither position nor salary. He is impractical. Loving
you, he should, in the name of common sense, be doing something that
would give him the right to marry, instead of paltering around with those
stories of his and with childish dreams. Martin Eden, I am afraid, will
never grow up. He does not take to responsibility and a man's work in
the world like your father did, or like all our friends, Mr. Butler for
one. Martin Eden, I am afraid, will never be a money-earner. And this
world is so ordered that money is necessary to happiness--oh, no, not
these swollen fortunes, but enough of money to permit of common comfort
and decency. He--he has never spoken?"

"He has not breathed a word. He has not attempted to; but if he did, I
would not let him, because, you see, I do not love him."

"I am glad of that. I should not care to see my daughter, my one
daughter, who is so clean and pure, love a man like him. There are noble
men in the world who are clean and true and manly. Wait for them. You
will find one some day, and you will love him and be loved by him, and
you will be happy with him as your father and I have been happy with each
other. And there is one thing you must always carry in mind--"

"Yes, mother."

Mrs. Morse's voice was low and sweet as she said, "And that is the
children."

"I--have thought about them," Ruth confessed, remembering the wanton
thoughts that had vexed her in