ar
it, that until you are thirty you'll never do anything your instincts
and your intelligence don't assure you is right,--really right without
any sophistry. Of course I mean in regard to men. I don't want you to
make yourself into a prig--but I am sure you understand."

"I think I do," said Magdalena. "I promise."

"Thank goodness, for you'll never break your word. You may be tempted
more than once to kick the whole stupid game of life to the deuce and go
out on a bat like a man, but console yourself with this: you'd be a long
sight worse off when you got through than when you started, and you'd
either go to smash altogether or spend the rest of your life trying to
get back where you were before; and sackcloth hurts. There isn't one bit
of joy to be got out of it. If you can't get the very best in this
world, take nothing. That's the only religion for a woman to cling to,
and if she does cling to it she can do without any other."

Magdalena rose. "Good-night," she said. "I'll never forget a word of it,
and I'm very much obliged."

She kissed him and had half crossed the room before he sprang to his
feet and went hastily forward to open the door. He went to her father's
house with her, then returned to his library fire. To the surprise of
his servants, he spent the evening quietly at home.

XII

A year from the following June, and two days after her arrival in Menlo,
Magdalena went into the middle woods. The great oaks were dusty already,
their brilliant greens were dimming: but the depths of the woods were
full of the warm shimmer of summer, of the mysterious noises produced by
creatures never seen, by the very heat itself, perchance by the riotous
sap in the young trees which had sprung to life from the roots of their
mighty parents.

Magdalena left the driveway and pushed in among the brush. Poison oak
did not affect her; and she separated the beautiful creeper fearlessly
until she reached a spot where she was as sure of being alone and unseen
as if she had entered the bowels of the earth. She sat down on the warm
dry ground and looked about her for a moment, glad in the sense of
absolute freedom. Above the fragrant brush of many greens rose the old
twisted oaks, a light breeze rustling their brittle leaves, their arms
lifted eagerly to the warm yellow bath from above. Near her was a high
pile of branches and leaves, the home of a wood-rat. No sound came from
it, and mortal had nothing to fear from h