John. Oh, John, I never realized before that people can be good and yet hurt like this!"
John was silent, and the girl went on analyzing the story:
"To me the three months with their ending make history: to Mrs. Flathers it was a current event; to Mr. Archibald, one of many incidents."
John broke his revery with: "Archibald was a cad. And as for Maria Dorrs-Flathers, she can't help being as she is. God made her so, I suppose. As for you, Theodora, I wish you weren't so everlastingly plucky about things. I came up here to Albany just to meet you. Instead of crying on my shoulder, as you ought to, like any other woman, you take the thing like an angel, treat it like an experiment in Münsterberg's psychology class, and say 'you've grown.'"
She laughed good-naturedly, while John March looked at her critically.
"Hang it! Theodora, when are you going to give up your garb and churchly authority for tailor-made suits and my word of command? You may spend all my money on your good deeds if you marry me, and the Lord knows you'll have more to spend than you do now in the biggest St. Stephen's in the country."
"John, I don't think you make a successful escort. It's long after luncheon-time. The porter has on his chef's apron, and I'm so 'hungry.'"
John March pushed the button.
When Beauty Dies
SHOULD change fall in its fated hour;
Should music cease, should darkness be;
Should star and sun and face and flower
Turn dust of beauty endlessly,
Beloved, what of you and me?
I question how, by finer sense,
The soul adventures ways unknown,
Or what shall be its recompense
For death? What loveliness atone
For earth's green glory sadly flown?
Yet, since I need not touch, nor sight,
Nor spoken word, however dear,
To read your thought and will aright,
To know your spirit, now and here,
What has our fellowship to fear?
Man's age-long doubt assails in vain
The truth that lightens in your eyes,
Or your still courage, bred of pain:—
Beyond the wreck of worlds and skies,
I shall seek these, when beauty dies.
