Helen Gardener’s brown eyes glowed and she smiled affectionately, saying:
“You and I belong to the same ethical family, Mrs. Doring.”
That night as she lay down to sleep, Cartice half persuaded herself that she was again a child, day-dreaming under the elm tree, the world unknown and still idealized, and the years that lay between that time and the present obliterated.
“Do I wish it were so?” she asked herself.
“No. I am glad so much of the journey has been accomplished. The future is always better than the past. It has in it that which we are to become, for life is endless becoming.”
Cartice and the new-found Helen became warm friends; but not till their friendship had stood the test of time did Cartice tell her how the creative power we call imagination had found her years before.
Quite as unexpectedly did Mrs. Doring one day meet the stranger to whom she had confided her ambitions and dreams under the elm tree long ago. She recognized him instantly, though of course he did not know her.
The great world knew him well. The bauble fame, and the jewel of success were his.
It was he who had sung: