ts, like the absurdities which occur in our sweetest
and most solemn dreams without marring their general impression in our
memories. Every glance he threw upon his companion, while on the one
hand it shocked his illusion in that she seemed not likely to vanish
away, on the other strengthened it with an indescribable thrill by the
revelation of some fresh trait of face or figure, some new expression,
that reproduced the Miss Rood of his youth. Not, indeed, that it
is likely his companion was thus perfectly the double of that lady,
although so much resembling her, but the common graces of maidenhood
were in Mr. Morgan's mind the peculiar personal qualities of the only
woman he had ever much known.

Of his own accord he would not have dared to risk breaking the charm by
a word. But his companion--who, as is tolerably evident by this time,
was Mabel French--had meanwhile formed a scheme quite worthy of her
audacious temper. She had at once recognized both Mr. Morgan and Miss
Rood, and had gone thus far from a mere romantic impulse, without
definite intentions of any sort. But the idea now came into her head
that she might take advantage of this extraordinary situation to try a
match-making experiment, which instantly captivated her fancy. So she
said, while ever so gently pressing his arm and looking up into his face
with an arch smile (she was recognized as the best amateur actress in
her set at home), "I wonder if the moon will be so mellow after we are
married?"

His illusion was rudely disturbed by the shock of an articulate voice,
softly and low as she spoke, and he looked around with a startled
expression that made her fear her role was ended. But she could not
know that the eyes she turned to his were mirrors where he saw his dead
youth. The two Miss Roods--the girl and the woman, the past and the
present--were fused and become one in his mind. Their identity flashed
upon him.

An artesian well sunk from the desert surface through the underlying
strata, the layers of ages, strikes some lake long ago covered over, and
the water welling up converts the upper waste into a garden. Just so
at her words and her look his heart suddenly filled, as if it came from
afar, with the youthful passion he had felt toward Miss Bood, but which,
he knew not exactly when or how, had been gradually overgrown with the
dullness of familiarity and had lapsed into an indolent affectionate
habit. The warm, voluptuous pulse of this new fee