Helen had a royal way of giving.

The very way she throned you in her heart, dropped you on one knee before her footstool.
He had fully justified her belief in him; but he well knew how much of his success he owed to her.

Their love had taught him lessons, given him ideals which had not been his before.
But there was nothing selfish or sentimental about Helen.

When the most sacred of their experiences crept into his work, and stood revealed for all the world to read; when his art transferred to hard type, and to the black and white of print and paper, the magic thrill of Helen's tenderness, so that all her friends could buy it for four shillings and sixpence, and discuss it at leisure, Helen never winced.

She only smiled and said: "The world has a right to every beautiful thing we can give it.