When I came back in the evening they
told me she was dead. I felt as if some great icy hand were tightening, on
my heart. Somehow I couldn't break down and cry it out. I went around with
a white, set face and gave no sign. Even at the funeral it was the same.
The neighbors called me hard-hearted and pointed me out to their sons as a
terrible warning. And all the time I was torn with agony."
"You poor boy."
"And one night she came to me in a dream. She did not look as she had just
before she died, but strong and beautiful, with the color in her face she
used to have. She smiled at me and kissed me and rumpled my hair as she
used to do. I knew, then, it was all right. She understood, and I didn't
care whether others did or not. I woke up crying, and after I had had my
grief out I was myself again."
"It was so sweet of her to think to come to you. She must have been loving
you up in heaven and saw you were troubled, and came down just to comfort
you and tell you it was all right," the girl cried with soft sympathy.
"That's how I understood it. Of course, I was only a boy, but somehow I
knew it was more than a dream.
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