And the years of the man and the woman passed until all their days
were Yesterdays.
Even as they had, together, crossed the threshold of the old, old,
door that has stood open since the beginning, they stood now,
together, upon the threshold of another door that has never been
closed.
And it was so, that, as once they went back into the Yesterdays that
became Their Yesterdays, so they still went back to the days that were
past. It was so, that the things of their manhood and womanhood had
become to them, now, even as the things of their childhood. They knew,
now, that, indeed, the work of men is but the play of children, after
all.
Their years were nearly spent, it is true. His hair was silvery white
and his form was bent and trembling. Her cheeks were like the drying
petals of a rose and her once brown hair was as white as his. But the
vigor and strength and life of their years lived still--gloriously
increased in the lives that they had given to the race.
Gone were the years of their manhood and womanhood--even as the days
of their boyhood and girlhood--they were gone. But, as the boy and the
girl had lived in the man and the woman, the man and the woman lived,
now, in their boys and girls and in the children of their children.
And this was the true glory and the fulfillment of their lives--that
they could live thus in their children--that they could see themselves
renewed in their children and in their children's children.
So it was that Memories became to this man and this woman, also, one
of the Thirteen Truly Great Things of Life.
There are many things that might be told about this man and
woman--about the work they did, the place they held in life, and the
rewards and honors they received--but I have put down all that, at the
end, seemed of any importance to them. Therefore have I put down
all that matters to my story.
What matters to them and to my story is this: always, as they went
back into the Yesterdays, they went back to the days of their
childhood and to the days of their children. They went back only to
_Their_ Yesterdays. To those other days--those days when they
were strangers--they did not go back.