l, a performance at which he excelled.

"Flee from temptation and pray that you may be delivered from evil,"
shouted the Doctor--(his was not the Socratic method)--"but remember
this: that as sure as the sparks fly upward there will come a time when,
however fast you run, you will be overtaken--cornered--no one to deliver
you but yourself--the gods sitting round interested. It is a grim fight,
for the Thing, you may be sure, has chosen its right moment. And every
woman in the world will sympathise with you and be just to you, not even
despising you should you be overcome; for however they may talk, every
woman in the world knows that male and female cannot be judged by the
same standard. To woman, Nature and the Law speak with one voice: 'Sin
not, lest you be cursed of your sex!' It is no law of man: it is the
law of creation. When the woman sins, she sins not only against her
conscience, but against her every instinct. But to the man Nature
whispers: 'Yield.' It is the Law alone that holds him back. Therefore
every woman in the world, knowing this, will be just to you--every woman
in the world but one--the woman that loves you. From her, hope for no
sympathy, hope for no justice."

"Then you think--" I began.

"I think," said the Doctor, "that your father loved your mother
devotedly; but he was one of those fighters that for the first
half-dozen rounds or so cause their backers much anxiety. It is a
dangerous method."

"Then you think my mother--"

"I think your mother was a good woman, Paul; and the good woman will
never be satisfied with man till the Lord lets her take him to pieces
and put him together herself."

My father had been pacing to and fro the tiny platform. Now he came to a
halt opposite my mother, placing his hands upon her shoulders.

"I want you to help me, Maggie--help me to be brave. I have only a year
or two longer to live, and there's a lot to be done in that time."

Slowly the anger died out of my mother's face.

"You remember that fall I had when the cage broke," my father went on.
"Andrews, as you know, feared from the first it might lead to that. But
I always laughed at him."

"How long have you known?" my mother asked.

"Oh, about six months. I felt it at the beginning of the year, but I
didn't say anything to Washburn till a month later. I thought it might
be only fancy."

"And he is sure?"

My father nodded.

"But why have you never told me?"

"Because," replied my father