I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsicalfellows, which I so little desire that I have got me into mywriting-chair to combat the charge, but, having sat for anunconscionable time with pen poised, I am come agitatedly to thefear that there may be something in it.

So long a time has elapsed, you must know, since I abated of theardours of self-inquiry that I revert in vain (through many rustydoors) for the beginning of this change in me, if changed I am; Iseem ever to see this same man until I am back in those wonderfulmonths which were half of my life, when, indeed, I know that Iwas otherwise than I am now; no whimsical fellow then, for thatwas one of the possibilities I put to myself while seeking forthe explanation of things, and found to be inadmissible. Havingfailed in those days to discover why I was driven from thegarden, I suppose I ceased to be enamoured of myself, as of somedull puzzle, and then perhaps the whimsicalities began to collectunnoticed.

It is a painful thought to me to-night, that he could wake upglorious once, this man in the elbow-chair by the fire, who ishumorously known at the club as a "confirmed spinster." Iremember him well when his years told four and twenty; on my soulthe proudest subaltern of my acquaintance, and with the mostreason to be proud. There was nothing he might not do in thefuture, having already done the biggest thing, this toddler upclub-steps to-day.

Not, indeed, that I am a knave; I am tolerably kind, I believe,and most inoffensive, a gentleman, I trust, even in the eyes ofthe ladies who smile at me as we converse; they are an ever-increasing number, or so it seems to me to-night. Ah, ladies, Iforget when I first began to notice that smile and to be madeuneasy by it. I think I understand it now, and in some vague wayit hurts me. I find that I watch for it nowadays, but I hope Iam still your loyal, obedient servant.

You will scarcely credit it, but I have just remembered that Ionce had a fascinating smile of my own. What has become of mysmile? I swear I have not noticed that it was gone till now; Iam like one who revisiting his school feels suddenly for his oldknife. I first heard of my smile from another boy, whose sistershad considered all the smiles they knew and placed mine on top.My friend was scornful, and I bribed him to mention theplebiscite to no one, but secretly I was elated and amazed. Ifeel lost to- night without my smiles. I rose a moment ago tolook for it in my mirror.

I like to believe that she has it now. I think she may have someother forgotten trifles of mine with it that make the differencebetween that man and this. I remember her speaking of my smile,telling me it was my one adornment, and taking it from me, so tospeak, for a moment to let me see how she looked in it; shedelighted to make sport of me when she was in a wayward mood, andto show me all my ungainly tricks of voice and gesture,exaggerated and glorified in her entrancing self, like a starcalling to the earth: "See, I will show you how you hobbleround," and always there was a challenge to me in her eyes tostop her if I dared, and upon them, when she was most audacious,lay a sweet mist.

They all came to her court, as is the business of young fellows,to tell her what love is, and she listened with a noblefrankness, having, indeed, the friendliest face for all engagedin this pursuit that can ever have sat on woman. I have heardladies call her coquette, not understanding that she shone softlyupon all who entered the lists because, with the rarestintuition, she foresaw that they must go away broken men andalready sympathised with their dear wounds. All wounds incurredfor love were dear to her; at every true utterance about love sheexulted with grave approval, or it might be a with a little "ah!"or "oh!" like one drinking deliciously. Nothing could have beenmore fair, for she was for the first comer who could hit thetarget, which was her heart.

She adored all beautiful things in their every curve andfragrance, so that they became part of her. Day by day, shegathered beauty; had she had no heart (she who was the bosom ofwomanhood) her thoughts would still have been as lilies, becausethe good is the beautiful.

And they all forgave her; I never knew of one who did not forgiveher; I think had there been one it would have proved that therewas a flaw in her. Perhaps, when good-bye came she was weepingbecause all the pretty things were said and done with, or she wasmaking doleful confessions about herself, so impulsive andgenerous and confidential, and so devoid of humour, that theycompelled even a tragic swain to laugh. She made a looking-glassof his face to seek wofully in it whether she was at all toblame, and when his arms went out for her, and she stepped backso that they fell empty, she mourned, with dear sympathy, hislack of skill to seize her. For what her soft eyes said was thatshe was always waiting tremulously to be won. They all forgaveher, because there was nothing to forgive, or very little, justthe little that makes a dear girl dearer, and often afterward, Ibelieve, they have laughed fondly when thinking of her, like boysbrought back. You ladies who are everything to your husbandssave a girl from the dream of youth, have you never known thatdouble- chinned industrious man laugh suddenly in a reverie andstart up, as if he fancied he were being hailed from far-away?

I hear her hailing me now. She was so light-hearted that herlaugh is what comes first across the years; so high-spirited thatshe would have wept like Mary of Scots because she could not lieon the bare plains like the men. I hear her, but it is only asan echo; I see her, but it is as a light among distant trees, andthe middle-aged man can draw no nearer; she was only for theboys. There was a month when I could have shown her to you in allher bravery, but then the veil fell, and from that moment Iunderstood her not. For long I watched her, but she was neverclear to me again, and for long she hovered round me, like a dearheart willing to give me a thousand chances to regain her love. She was so picturesque that she was the last word of art, but shewas as young as if she were the first woman. The world must haverung with gallant deeds and grown lovely thoughts for numberlesscenturies before she could be; she was the child of all the braveand wistful imaginings of men. She was as mysterious as nightwhen it fell for the first time upon the earth. She was thething we call romance, which lives in the little hut beyond theblue haze of the pine-woods.

No one could have looked less elfish. She was all on a noblescale, her attributes were so generous, her manner unconquerablygracious, her movements indolently active, her face so candidthat you must swear her every thought lived always in the open.Yet, with it all, she was a wild thing, alert, suspicious of thelasso, nosing it in every man's hand, more curious about it thanabout aught else in the world; her quivering delight was to seeit cast for her, her game to elude it; so mettlesome was she thatshe loved it to be cast fair that she might escape as it wasclosing round her; she scorned, however her heart might bebeating, to run from her pursuers; she took only the one stepbackward, which still left her near them but always out of reach;her head on high now, but her face as friendly, her manner asgracious as before, she is yours for the catching. That was everthe unspoken compact between her and the huntsmen.

It may be but an old trick come back to me with these memories,but again I clasp my hands to my brows in amaze at the thoughtthat all this was for me could I retain her love. For I won it,wonder of the gods, but I won it. I found myself with one footacross the magic circle wherein she moved, and which none but Ihad entered; and so, I think, I saw her in revelation, not as thewild thing they had all conceived her, but as she really was. Isaw no tameless creature, nothing wild or strange. I saw mysweet love placid as a young cow browsing. As I brushed asidethe haze and she was truly seen for the first time, she raisedher head, like one caught, and gazed at me with meek affrightedeyes. I told her what had been revealed to me as I looked uponher, and she trembled, knowing she was at last found, and fainwould she have fled away, but that her fear was less than hergladness. She came to me slowly; no incomprehensible thing to menow, but transparent as a pool, and so restful to look upon thatshe was a bath to the eyes, like banks of moss.

Because I knew the maid, she was mine. Every maid, I say, is forhim who can know her. The others had but followed the glamour inwhich she walked, but I had pierced it and found the woman. Icould anticipate her every thought and gesture, I could haveflashed and rippled and mocked for her, and melted for her andbeen dear disdain for her. She would forget this and be suddenlyconscious of it as she began to speak, when she gave me a lookwith a shy smile in it which meant that she knew I was alreadywaiting at the end of what she had to say. I call this the blushof the eye. She had a look and a voice that were for me alone;her very finger-tips were charged with caresses for me. And Iloved even her naughtinesses, as when she stamped her foot at me,which she could not do without also gnashing her teeth, like achild trying to look fearsome. How pretty was that gnashing ofher teeth! All her tormentings of me turned suddenly intosweetnesses, and who could torment like this exquisite fury,wondering in sudden flame why she could give herself to anyone,while I wondered only why she could give herself to me. It maybe that I wondered over-much. Perhaps that was why I lost her.

It was in the full of the moon that she was most restive, but Ibrought her back, and at first she could have bit my hand, butthen she came willingly. Never, I thought, shall she be whollytamed, but he who knows her will always be able to bring herback.

I am not that man, for mystery of mysteries, I lost her. I knownot how it was, though in the twilight of my life that then beganI groped for reasons until I wearied of myself; all I know isthat she had ceased to love me; I had won her love, but I couldnot keep it. The discovery came to me slowly, as if I were amost dull-witted man; at first I knew only that I no longerunderstood her as of old. I found myself wondering what she hadmeant by this and that; I did not see that when she began topuzzle me she was already lost to me. It was as if, unknowing, Ihad strayed outside the magic circle.

When I did understand I tried to cheat myself into the beliefthat there was no change, and the dear heart bleeding for meassisted in that poor pretence. She sought to glide to me withswimming eyes as before, but it showed only that this caressingmovement was still within her compass, but never again for me. With the hands she had pressed to her breast she touched mine,but no longer could they convey the message. The current wasbroken, and soon we had to desist miserably from our pretences. She could tell no more than I why she had ceased to love me; shewas scarcely less anxious than I that I should make her love meagain, and, as I have said, she waited with a wonderful tolerancewhile I strove futilely to discover in what I was lacking and toremedy it. And when, at last, she had to leave me, it was withcompassionate cries and little backward flights.

The failure was mine alone, but I think I should not have been soaltered by it had I known what was the defect in me through whichI let her love escape. This puzzle has done me more harm thanthe loss of her. Nevertheless, you must know (if I am to speakhonestly to you) that I do not repent me those dallyings inenchanted fields. It may not have been so always, for I remembera black night when a poor lieutenant lay down in an oarless boatand let it drift toward the weir. But his distant moans do notgreatly pain me now; rather am I elated to find (as the watersbring him nearer) that this boy is I, for it is something to knowthat, once upon a time, a woman could draw blood from me as fromanother.

I saw her again, years afterward, when she was a married womanplaying with her children. She stamped her foot at a naughtyone, and I saw the gleam of her teeth as she gnashed them in thedear pretty way I can't forget; and then a boy and girl, fightingfor her shoulders, brought the whole group joyously to theground. She picked herself up in the old leisurely manner, lazilyactive, and looked around her benignantly, like a cow: our dearwild one safely tethered at last with a rope of children. Imeant to make her my devoirs, but, as I stepped forward, the oldwound broke out afresh, and I had to turn away. They were but afew poor drops, which fell because I found that she was even alittle sweeter than I had thought.