“But you have lost one thing that you can not get back, Grusha. You can never again wonder if Ivan is going to be faithful. An unsatisfied wish is a fine thing to have, my child.” She walked off still laughing, leaving Grusha puzzled and vexed. At the corner the old woman met the bridegroom and gave him greeting also. “What a man you are, Ivan, to keep a girl faithful to you in all those months. Were you not surprised at finding Grusha unmarried?” Ivan scratched his head meditatively. “I was surprised,” he said finally. “And grateful?” asked Anna Evauovna. “And grateful,” repeated Ivan, slowly. “What would you have done if you had found her married?” “Heaven bless me! If she had not waited, I could have found another.” Anna Evauovna nodded. “They grow thickly, these women, but now you can settle down quietly after your wanderings, Ivan.” Ivan turned his cap round on his hand, and shook his head. “Wandering is not bad, Anna Evauovna. One sees men and women then. A man does not care so much to live in one place after he sees the world. But we shall get on nicely, I suppose.” Anna Evauovna walked on, her wrinkled old face all puckered with laughter. “That is what comes of what one waits and wearies for,” she said to herself. As she passed the hedge, behind which she had watched Ivan’s home-coming, she heard two voices on the other side, and paused to listen. A man and a woman were talking earnestly together. “But you know it was you I always loved, Masha,” said the deeper tones. It was Alioscha speaking. Anna Evauovna went on her way, bending double with laughter. She did not need to hear the answer Masha gave—for she knew all things, did Anna Evauovna. [Illustration: THE END] [Illustration: “_Death and Love._” _Drawn by Clarence Herbert Rowe._] [Illustration: DEATH AND LOVE.] Thus runs the maxim, “All are born to die.” Grief follows joy as twilight follows day. Old loves depart and beauty will not stay. Wherefore, too sad to weep, henceforth must I Encounter only Death, the Passer-By. For every pleasure we with sorrow pay, We are but dreamers, dreaming dreams by day. Yet there be those who suffer cruelly Who find a rainbow in their cup of tears. Smiles beget smiles on faces sad as ours, The pale moonlight silvers the sobbing sea. One love supreme and constant through the years Is dearer than fine rubies, sweet as flowers, Sweet and as dear as that you gave to me. —_William Theodore Peters._ [Illustration: CHANNOAH BY EDWARD LUCAS WHITE]