But you shall not do it. Dear little copy maker, would a man
standing out on the end of a slippery plank have any right to cry to
someone on the shore--'Come out here on this plank with me?' If he
loved the someone on the shore, would he not say instead--'Don't get
on this plank?' Me get off the plank--come with you to the
shore--you are saying? But you see, dear, you only know slippery
planks as viewed from the shore--God grant you may never know them
any other way!

"It was you, was it not, who wrote our definition of happiness? Yes,
I remember the day you did it. You were so interested; your cheeks
grew so very red, and you pulled and pulled at your wavy hair. You
said it was such an important definition. And so it is, Miss Noah,
quite the most important of all. And on the page of life, Miss Noah,
may happiness be written large and unblurred for you. It is because
I cannot help you write it that I turn away. I want at least to
leave the page unspoiled.

"I carry a picture of you. I shall carry it always. You are sitting
before a fireplace, and I think of that fireplace as symbolising the
warmth and care and tenderness and the safety that will surround
you. And sometimes as you sit there let a thought of me come for
just a minute, Miss Noah--not long enough nor deep enough to bring
you any pain. But only think--I brought him happiness after he
believed all happiness had gone. He was so grateful for that light
which came after he thought the darkness had settled down. It will
light his way to the end.

"We've come to Z, and it's good-bye. There is one thing I can give
you without hurting you,--the hope, the prayer, that life may be