Lenox and Quita swept headlong, as it were, to the crest of a wave, dropped presently back to earth. Then he set her a little away from him, almost at arm's-length, the better to feast his eyes upon the sight of her; and so became aware of the subtle change perceptible in her letters:--some exquisite quality, the fruit of long waiting, crowned by the miracle of motherhood; an appreciable softening of the lips; a triumph of the essential woman over mere line and curve that brought her near to actual beauty. But it was the new depth and tenderness in her eyes that drew and held him; eyes luminous, as never before, with the pride, the exaltation, of a consummate self-surrender,--not of necessity, but of free choice, the woman's utmost gift to her own one lover and compeer in all the world; if so be that she is privileged to find him, and if so be that he himself aspires to the larger claim. Eldred Lenox had so aspired; and, in consequence, had attained. Her mute confession of it stirred him to speech. "I believe I _have_ won the whole of you at last--you very woman," he said almost under his breath. "And I know it," she answered in the same tone. "Do you remember saying that day you were angry: 'If you _will_ make it a case of mastery----!' Well, it is a case of mastery--absolute and permanent." She spoke truth. At that moment, and indeed for many years after, she would have walked, at his bidding, into the heart of a furnace. He drew her close again. "No, no, lass. I hope it's a case of love and comradeship on an equal footing,--as you have seen it in this house; the rarest thing in the world between a man and woman." Her smile brought into play the dimple that he loved. "How one needs you at every turn, to keep the balance of things! But come over to my easel. I have something to show you." Very deliberately she lifted the draperies that hid the picture, and a low sound broke from him. Then he stood gazing upon it,--absorbed, captivated; and whereas, a moment since, the woman had triumphed, now all the artist in her thrilled at his tribute of silence, knowing it for the highest praise. "A bit of pure inspiration," he said at last. "It lives and breathes!" "That is your doing, more than mine. And I am glad it pleases you; for it is a present, and--a confession!" "You did it simply for me?" "For who else, in earth or heaven, dear and dense one?" she demanded, laughing; and was effectually put to silence. "Wasn't it just like me to throw all my heart into a portrait of myself?" she added, as he released her. "It was enchanting of you; that's all _I_ know. But see here, lass, there must be no question of murdering half your personality on my account. I am grasping. I want both of you,--artist and woman."