On the night of May thirty-first, Aaron and Theodosia sat together and watched the June morning of their separation dawn above the chimney-pots and tiles of the city. They had had wine for dinner, far more than was their wont. Now, as the moon paled, the hazy courage the wine instilled had worn off. They had said all the casual farewell things that people say when they wish to forget the real anguish before them. There had been welcome last-minute details. She had packed and repacked his cowhide chest, folding his suits and frilled shirts with loving care. The chest was marked ' A. B'. in brass nails, an oversight. 'A. B'. were not the initials for a gentle man named G. H. Edwards. The nails had been uprooted and skillfully replaced. Before the trunk was closed, Aaron laid across the piled clothes, just under the lid where it would be uncrushed, Theo's portrait painted five years ago by Vanderlyn. They both stared down at the unframed canvas.

'It shall never leave me for a moment,' said Aaron softly.

'I shall talk to it. When I write you, I shall prop it up before me and imagine you with me.'

'Oh, Father, if I only could go with you——'

He shook his head. 'You know how dearly I wish it too. It is impossible.'

Yes, impossible. She would impede him: even had there been enough money, even had she been willing to desert her child. Could she only have taken Gampy too-

'It won't be for long'. Aaron used the reassurance they had been giving each other since first the decision was reached.

It brought no comfort now. Theo leaned her head against the wall, staring out the window. The glimpse of harbor over the roofs was changing from gray to blue in the waxing light.

' If only I could believe in a benevolent God and Heaven——Don't you ever feel the need of those, Father? Don't you ever fear death?'

'No,' he answered her after a thoughtful moment. 'I don't fear death. I wish to avoid it as long as I can. But bless me, my dear, we must all die. And when it comes, let us at least die game.'

'Yes, I know. But there is scant comfort in that.'

'On the contrary, my child, there is comfort in that. Courage is a religion in itself: the only religion which is real to me. I do not know whether death is final, but it will be interesting to find out some day. New projects have ever attracted me, as you know'. He laughed, the bantering, ten der laugh which had never failed to elicit her quick response.

She tried to smile, but she could not. She put her hands to her face to hide the rush of tears. 'We're fooling ourselves. It will be a long separation. I know it. I feel it.'