THE TOUCHSTONE
"I may never see you again," he said, as though confidently appealing to her compassion.
Her look enveloped him. "And I shall see you always—always!"
"Why go then—?" escaped him.
"To be nearer you," she answered; and the words dismissed him like a closing door.
The door was never to reopen; but through its narrow crack Glennard, as the years went on, became more and more conscious of an inextinguishable light directing its small ray toward the past which consumed so little of his own commemorative oil. The reproach was taken from this thought by Mrs. Aubyn's gradual translation into terms of universality. In becoming a personage she so naturally ceased to be a person that Glennard could almost look back to his explorations of her spirit as on a visit to some famous shrine, immortalized, but in a sense desecrated, by popular veneration.
Her letters from London continued to come with the same tender punctuality; but the altered conditions of her life, the vistas of new relationships dis-
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