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These thoughts filled her so often； so often！ For into the busiest lifethe life that toils to shut out thoughtthe inevitable leisure will come； and with the leisure will return the dreaded emptiness； the loneliness； the never stifled need of sympathy； affection； companionshipfor that world of two outside of which every other human being is a stranger。 And it was he who entered into all these hours of hers as by a right that she had neither the heart nor the strength to question。
For behind everything else there was one thing moredeeper than anything else； dearer； more sacred； the feeling she would never surrender that for a while at least he had cared more for her than he had ever realized。
One mild afternoon of autumn she was walking with quiet dignity around her garden。 She had just come from town where she had given to Jouett the last sitting of her portrait； and she was richly dressed in the satin gown and cap of lace which those who see the picture nowadays will remember。 The finishing of it had saddened her a little； she meant to leave it to him； and she wondered whether； when he looked into the eyes of this portrait； he would at last understand〃： she had tried to tell him the truth； it was the truth that Jouett painted。
Thus she was thinking of the past as usual； and once she paused in the very spot where one sweet afternoon of May long ago he had leaned over the fence； holding in his hand his big black had decorated with a Jacobin cockade； and had asked her consent to marry Amy。 Was not yonder the very maple； in the shade of which he and she sat some weeks later while she had talked with him about the ideals of life？ She laughed； but she touched her handkerchief to her eyes as she turned to pass on。 Then she stopped abruptly。
Coming down the garden walk toward her with a light rapid step； his head in the air； a smile on his fresh noble face； an earnest look in his gray eyes； was a tall young fellow of some eighteen years。 A few feet off he lifted his hat with a free； gallant air； uncovering a head of dark…red hair； closely curling。
〃I beg your pardon； madam；〃 he said； in a voice that fell on her ears like music long remembered。 〃Is this Mrs。 Falconer？〃
〃Yes；〃 she replied； beginning to tremble； 〃I am Mrs。 Falconer。〃
〃Then I should like to introduce myself to you； dearest madam。 I am John Gray； the son of your old friend； and my father sends me to you to stay with you if you will let me。 And he desires me to deliver this letter。〃
〃John Gray！〃 she cried； running forward and searching his face。 〃You John Gray！ You！ Take off your hat！〃 For a moment she looked at his forehead and his hair； her eyes became blinded with tears。 She threw her arms around his neck with a sob and covered his face with kisses。
〃Madam；〃 said the young fellow； stooping to pick up his hat； and laughing outright at his own blushes and confusion； 〃I don't wonder that my father thinks so much of you！〃
〃I never did that to your father！〃 she retorted。 Beneath the wrinkled ivory of her skin a tinge of faintest pink appeared and disappeared。
Half and hour later she was sitting at a western window。 Young John Gray had gone to the library to write to his father and mother； announcing his arrival； and in her lap lay his father's letter which with tremulous fingers she was now wiping her spectacles to read。 In all these years she had never allowed herself to think of her John Gray as having grown older； she saw him still young； as when he used to lean over the garden fence。 But now the presence of this son had the effect of suddenly pushing the father far on into life； and her heart ached with this first realization that he too must have passed the climbing…point and have set his feet on the shaded downward slope that leads to the quiet valley。
His letter began lightly：
〃I send John to you with the wish that you will be to the son the same inspiring soul you once were to the father。 You will find him headstrong and with great notions of what he is to be in the world。 But he is warm…hearted and clean…hearted。 Let him do for you the things I used to do； let him hold the yarn on his arms for you to wind off； and read to you your favourite novels； he is a good reader for a young fellow。 And will you get out your spinning…wheel some night when the logs are in roaring in the fireplace and let him hear its music？ Will you some time with your hands make him a johnny…cake on a new ash shingle？ I want him to know a woman who can do all things and still be a great lady。 And lay upon him all the burdens that in any way you can； so that he shall not think too much of what he may some day do in life； but； of what he is actually doing。 We get great reports of the Transylvania University； of the bar of Lexington； of the civilization that I foresaw would spring up in Kentucky； and I send John to you with the wish that he hear lectures and afterward go into the office of some one whom I shall name； and finally marry and settle there for life。 You recall this as the wish of my own； through John shall be done what I could not do。 You see how stubborn I am！ I have given him the names of my school…children。 He is to find out those of them who still live there； and to tell me of those who have passed away or been scattered。
〃I do not know； but if at the end of life I should be left alone here； perhaps I shall make my way back to Kentucky to John； as the old tree falls beside the young one。〃
》From this point the tone of the letter changed。
〃And now I am going to open to you what no other eye has ever seen； must ever seeone page in the book of my life。〃
When she reached these words with a contraction of the heart and a loud throbbing of the pulses in her ears； she got up and locked the letter in her bureau。 Then； commanding herself； she went to the dining…room； and with her own hands prepared the supper table； got our her finest linen； glass； silver； had the sconces lighted； extra candelabra brought in； gave orders for especial dishes to be cooked； and when everything was served； seated her guest at the foot of the table and let him preside as though it were his old rightful place。 Ah； how like his father he was！ Several times when the father's name was mentioned； he quite choked up with tears。
At an early hour he sought rest from the fatigue of travel。 She was left alone。 The house was quiet。 She summoned the negro girl who slept on the floor in her room and who was always with her of evenings：
〃You can go to the cabin till bedtime。 And when you come in； don't make any noise。 And don't speak to me。 I shall be asleep。〃
Then seating herself beside the little candle stand which mercifully for her had had shed its light on so many books in the great lonely bedchamber； she re…read those last words：
〃And now I am going to open to you what no other eye has ever seen； must ever seeone page in the book of my life：
〃Can you remember the summer I left Kentucky？ On reaching Philadelphia I called on a certain family consisting； as I afterwards ascertained； of father； mother； and daughter； and being in search of lodgings； I was asked to become a member of their household。 This offer was embraced the more eagerly because I was sick for a