She had been conquered at last. Was he doomed to die in the race for the favor of this Atalanta? Or would Aphrodite help him, as she had aided Milanion of old? His sad face, with its beautiful, tender mouth and eyes, grew firm and strong, as an unspoken determination was made, and Margaret moved uneasily a little farther away from the would-be Milanion, whose gray-blue eyes spoke such unspeakable things. She had been a help to him, with her sober, conscientious work, her simple, earnest endeavor to fill the destiny chosen for her. "She does not know," thought Philip, "that such a career to a woman can only be a consolation. Women should only work when they cannot love. She knows nothing of love, and till she loves can know nothing of life."
"Have I really helped you?" queried Margaret, all the chivalry of her nature thrilling at this admission of her strength and his dependence. To a chivalrous woman—and it seems to-day that chivalry has fled from the world, save when it lingers in some woman's breast—the dependence of a man is a very dear and sacred thing. It is in this chivalrous spirit that many a noble woman sacrifices her life and heart to some selfish weakling, who appreciates the offering as little as he does her who makes it. More often, I believe, does the powerful woman-
