she would think long.. think of the emptiness that surrounded her life.. an emptiness no man would ever fill; and her heart would fill with grief for herself, and she would weep bitterly, hoping with her tears to wash away the bitterness of her lot.

Here she is, remembering all this now — remembering all the pain and torment that surrounded her past life; then she comes back to herself and remembers tomorrow, and tries to forget yesterday; but her memory refuses to forget, and takes her back to where her thoughts had halted. And she asks herself:

Were these, then, the motives that made her turn against life? Was it the emptiness in her life that made her long for death?

Perhaps it was; she has hated her life for a long time now.. yet she never used to think of giving it up.

Then what happened in her life to make her think of leaving this life?

And she remembers..

She remembers her first meeting with him, and how he kindled in her heart a new hope in life, and gave her a taste of what it means for the heart and soul to be filled with love and tenderness.

He showed her the utmost atten-tion from the first moment she sat talking with him, and made her feel that she was the only one, in all her uncle's house, with whom he cared to converse.

That night she did not sleep, but lay wakeful, thinking of him.

Did he love her, she wondered?.. Had she really found someone who cared for her in this world? No — she was deluding herself; it was impossible that it should be love. Perhaps he had meant only to be courteous, out of the duty of politeness; for how could a hand-some young man like this, clever

like this, love her — she whom even the ugly men she had seen had not loved, nor the dull ones? And yet — had he not taken a liking to her from the moment he first spoke with her, would he have spent all his time with her and for her, when politeness required him to talk with others?

Had he perhaps understood her nature, and pitied her for her loneliness, and resolved to make her feel happiness if only once? If that was his intention, then a curse upon him — an accursed devil bent on ensnaring her. A curse upon him if he meant to

give her the taste of hope and then hide it away from her life; a curse upon him if he pitied her — for she hates pity.

She stayed awake that night, restless; but this time she did not weep — she was thinking; she was asking herself ques-tions she could not answer,

so she left their answer to time.

And time did not answer her quickly; it prolonged its silence, though it kept hinting at the answer. Their meetings in her uncle's house multiplied; she came to talk with him more