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iryas a woman is apt to do in a singleman's abode； for when she came again； in addition to pieces of soft old linen for bandages brought fresh cool fragrant sheetsthe work of her own looms； a better pillow with a pillow…case on it that was delicious to his cheek； for he had his weakness about clean； white linen。 She put a curtain over the pitiless window。 He saw a wild rose in a glass beside his Testament。 He discovered moccasin slippers beside his bed。
〃And here；〃 she had said just before leaving； with her hand on a pile of things and with an embarrassed laughkeeping her face turned away〃here are some towels。〃 Under the towels he found two night shirtsnew ones。
When she was gone； he lay thinking of her again。
He had gratefully slipped on one of the shirts。 He was feeling the new sense of luxury that is imparted by a bed enriched with snow…white； sweet…smelling pillows and sheets。 The curtain over his window strained into his room a light shadowy； restful。 The flower on his table；the transforming touch in his roomher noble brooding tendernesseverything went into his gratitude； his remembrance of her。 But all thishe argued with a sudden taste for fine discriminationhad not been done out of mere anxiety for his life： it was not the barren solicitude of a nurse but the deliberate； luxurious regard of a mother for his comfort： no doubt it represented the ungovernable overflow of the maternal； long pent…up in her ungratified。 And by this route he came at last to a thought of her that novel for himthe pitying recollection of her childlessness。
〃What a mother she would have been！〃 he said rebelliously。 〃The mother of sons who would have become great through herand greater through the memory of her after she was gone。〃 When she came again； seeing him out of danger and seeing him comfortable； she seated herself beside his table and opened her work。〃It isn't good for you to talk much；〃 she soon said reprovingly； 〃and I have to workand to think。〃
And so he lay watching herwatching her beautiful fingers which never seemed to rest in lifewatching her quiet brow with its ripple of lustrous hair forever suggesting to him how her lovely neck and shoulders would be buried by it if its long light waves were but loosened。 To have a woman sitting by his table with her sewingit turned his room into something vaguely dreamed of heretofore： a home。 She finished a sock for Major Falconer and began on one of his shirts。 He counted the stitches as they went into a sleeve。 They made him angry。 And her face！over it had come a look of settled weariness； for perhaps if there is ever a time when a woman forgets and the inward sorrow steals outward to the surface as an unwatched shadow along a wall； it is when she sews。
〃What a wife she is！〃 he reflected enviously after she was gone； and he tried not to think of certain matters in her life。 〃What a wife！ How unfaltering in duty！〃
The next time she came； it was early。 She seemed to him to have bathed in the freshness； the beauty； the delight of the morning。 He had never seen her so radiant； so young。 She was like a woman who holds in her hand the unopened casket of lifeits jewels still ungazed on； still unworn。 There was some secret excitement in her as though the moment had at last come for her to open it。 She had but a few moments to spare。
〃I have brought you a book；〃 she said； smiling and laying her cheek against a rose newly placed by his Testament。 For a moment she scrutinized him with intense penetration。 Then she added：
〃Will you read it wisely？〃
〃I will if I am wise；〃 he replied laughing。 〃Thank you；〃 and he held out his hand for the book eagerly。 She clasped it more tightly with the gayest laugh of irresolution。 Her colour deepened。 A moment later； however； she recovered the simple and noble seriousness to which she had grown used as the one habit of her life with him。
〃You should have read it long ago；〃 she said。 〃But it is not too late for you。 Perhaps now is your best time。 It is a good book for a man； wounded as you have been； and by the time you are well； you will need it more than you have ever done。 Hereafter you will always need it more。〃
She spoke with partly hidden significance； as one who knows life may speak to one who does not。 He eyed the book despairingly。
〃It is my old Bible of manhood；〃 she continued with rich soberness； 〃 part worthless； part divine。 Not Greek manhoodnor Roman manhood： they were too pagan。 Not Semitic manhood： thatin its ideal at leastwas not pagan enough。 But something better than any of thesesomething that is everything。〃 The subject struck inward to the very heart's root of his private life。 He listened as with breath arrested。
〃We know what the Greeks were before everything else；〃 she said resolutely： 〃 hey were physical men： we think less of them spiritually in any sense of the idea that is valued by us and of course we do not think of them at all as gentlemen： that involves of course the highest courtesy to women。 The Jews were of all things spiritual in the type of their striving。 Their ancient system； and the system of the New Testament itself as it was soon taught and passed down to us； struck a deadly blow at the development of the body for its own sakeat physical beauty： and the highest development of the body is what the race can never do without。 It struck another blow at the development of tasteat the luxury and grace of the intellect： which also the race can never do without。 But in this old book you will find the starting…point of a new conception of ideal human life。 It grew partly out of the pagan； it grew partly out of the Christian； it added from its own age something of its own。 Nearly every nation of Europe has lived on it ever sinceas its ideal。 The whole world is being nourished by that ideal more and more。 It is the only conception of itself that the race can never fall away from without harm； because it is the ideal of its own perfection。 You know what I mean？〃 she asked a little imperiously as though she were talking to a green boy。
〃What do you mean？〃 he asked wonderingly。 She had never spoken to him in this way。 Her mood； the passionate； beautiful； embarrassed stress behind all this； was a bewildering revelation。
〃I mean；〃 she said； 〃that first of all things in this world a man must be a manwith all the grace and vigour and； if possible； all the beauty of the body。 Then he must be a gentlemanwith all the grace； the vigour； the good taste of the mind。 And then with both of theseno matter what his creed； his dogmas； his superstitions； his religionwith both of these he must try to live a beautiful life of the spirit。〃 He looked at her eagerly； gratefully。
〃You will find him all these；〃 she resumed； dropping her eyes before his gratitude which was much too personal。 〃You wil1 find all these in this book： here are men who were men； here are men who were gentlemen； and here are gentlemen who served the unfallen life of the spirit。〃
She kept her eyes on the book。 Her voice had become very grave and reverent。 She had grown more embarrassed； but at last she went on as though resolved to finish：
〃So it ought to help you！ It will help you。 It will help you to be what you are trying to be。 T