"Why?" asked the mother, quietly.
"Why! Do you know that I am nearing forty? Do you see the pepper and
salt in my hair? After one passes twoscore it is time to think of the
past, not of the future. I am over the brow of the hill; I see the easy
decline of the road--it doesn't seem as long as when I climbed the other
half." He smiled, threw back his strong shoulders, and inhaled a huge
breath of air.
"Truly you are childish," she said; "you are at the best part of your
life, of your career. Yes, Theophile, my husband, who is so chary in his
praise, said that you would go far if you cared." Her low, warm voice,
with its pleading inflections, thrilled him. He took her by the wrist.
"And would it please _you_, if I went far?" She trembled.
"Not too far, dear friend--remember Berenice."
"I remember no one but you," he impatiently answered; and relaxing his
hold, he moved so that the moonlight shone on her face. She was pale. In
her eyes there were fright and hope, decision and delight. He admired
her more than ever.
"Let me paint you, Elaine, these next few weeks.
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