Often unable to sleep, she continued her thoughts and wondered if space
were not interlaced with electrical currents that move the earth, the
sister planets, and the myriads of suns and their planets. She thought
she saw, as never before, the necessity for an eternal existence of the
mind, if God is to be studied and known in his infinite variety.

Four years in college had developed Gertrude into a beautiful character.
Regular work in the gymnasium, much outdoor exercise, and care as to
ventilation in her rooms, especially at night, had kept her in perfect
physical health. Her intimates shared her glow of vitality, for her
presence at "Lawn, or Character Teas," at tennis-courts, or at
basket-ball always brought sunshine and enthusiasm.

The Saturday before commencement, her mother and Lucille came to enjoy
the charming festivities of Smith College. A representation of Racine's
"Athalie," with Mendelssohn's music, was the evening attraction at the
Academy of Music, which the class had rented for the occasion.

Groups of ushers, with white satin wands, conducted students in tasteful
dresses, and invited guests to their seats. When the curtain rose it was
difficult to decide which one most admired, the stage with its artistic
setting, its young faces, sweet voices, and graceful movements, or the
sympathetic audience of students and their friends. The stage and press
of the future guided in part by college-bred men and women will preach,
it is hoped, purity, truth, and the beautiful.

Mrs. Harris and Lucille were very happy that Gertrude was to graduate,
and Lucille who had just finished her education in Boston, half regretted
that she too had not entered a woman's college. Gertrude never looked
more beautiful than she did in the white-robed procession, as, on
Baccalaureate Sunday, the several classes passed down the aisles of the
church.

George Ingram had hurried to Northampton to see Gertrude graduate. She
met him at the station, and took his hand warmly in both of hers. George
had brought from New York a box of white roses for her room, and a big
bunch of the star-flower, the pretty English blue forget-me-not. He also
had in his valise a tiny case of which he made no mention to anybody.

Hundreds of young women in white walked across the campus and were massed
on the college steps for their Ivy Exercise. Never before was George so
proud of Gertrude. She and Nellie Nelson, afterwards Mrs. Eastlake, had
been cho