And as a sunburst in an instant transforms the sad fields of November
into a bright and cheerful landscape, so did this revelation suddenly
illumine her sombre life.
All day she went about the house and the village like one in a dream,
smiling and weeping, and reading Paul's letter over and over, through
eyes swimming with a joy unutterable.
In the afternoon, with tender, tremulous fingers, she removed the crape
from the frame of Ida's picture, which it had draped for so many years.
As she was performing this symbolic act, it seemed to the old lady that
the fair young face smiled upon her. "Forgive me!" she murmured. "How
could I have ever thought you dead!"
It was not till evening that her servants reminded her that she had not
eaten that day, and induced her to take food.
The next afternoon Paul arrived. He had not been without very serious
doubt as to the manner in which his argument for the immortality of past
selves might impress Miss Ludington. A mild melancholy such as hers
sometimes becomes sweet by long indulgence. She might not welcome
opinions which revolutionized the fixed ideas of her life, even though
they should promise a more cheerful philosophy.
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