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“Then you do not relinquish your hopes, and lay down your tools?” he asked, with some eagerness.

“Never! I thought at first that I could not serve two masters, but in trying to be faithful to one I find I am nearer and dearer to the other. My cares and duties are growing lighter every day (or I have learned to bear them better), and when my leisure does come I shall know how to use it, for my head is full of ambitious plans, and I feel that I can do something now.”

All the old enthusiasm shone in her eyes, and a sense of power betrayed itself in voice and gesture as she spoke.

“I believe it,” he said heartily. “You have learned the secret, as that proves.”

Psyche looked at the childish image as he pointed to it, and into her face there came a motherly expression that made it very sweet.

“That little sister was so dear to me I could not fail to make her lovely, for I put my heart into my work. The year has gone, but I don’t regret it, though this is all I have done.”

“You forget your three wishes; I think the year has granted them.”

“What were they?”

“To possess beauty in yourself, the power of seeing it in all things, and the art of reproducing it with truth.”

She colored deeply under the glance which accompanied the threefold compliment, and answered with grateful humility,–

“You are very kind to say so; I wish I could believe it.” Then, as if anxious to forget herself, she added rather abruptly,–

“I hear you think of giving your Adam a mate,–have you begun yet?”

“Yes, my design is finished, all but the face.”

“I should think you could image Eve’s beauty, since you have succeeded so well with Adam’s.”

“The features perhaps, but not the expression. That is the charm of feminine faces, a charm so subtile that few can catch and keep it. I want a truly womanly face, one that shall be sweet and strong without being either weak or hard. A hopeful, loving, earnest face with a tender touch of motherliness in it, and perhaps the shadow of a grief that has softened but not saddened it.”

“It will be hard to find a face like that.”

“I don’t expect to find it in perfection; but one sometimes sees faces which suggest all this, and in rare moments give glimpses of a lovely possibility.”

“I sincerely hope you will find one then,” said Psyche, thinking of the dinner.

“Thank you; I think I have.”

Now, in order that every one may be suited, we will stop here, and leave our readers to finish the story as they like. Those who prefer the good old fashion may believe that the hero and heroine fell in love, were married, and lived happily ever afterward. But those who can conceive of a world outside of a wedding-ring may believe that the friends remained faithful friends all their lives, while Paul won fame and fortune, and Psyche grew beautiful with the beauty of a serene and sunny nature, happy in duties which became pleasures, rich in the art which made life lovely to herself and others, and brought rewards in time.