amed on that couch, reflected herself in that mirror, breathed that
air, without somehow detaching invisible fibres of her being, delicate
films of herself, that must gradually, she being gone, draw together
into a separate individuality an image not quite bodiless, that replaces
her in her absence, as the holy Theocrite was replaced by the angel. If
there are ghosts of the dead, why not ghosts of the living also?" This
lover's fancy so pleased him that he brought to bear upon it the whole
force of his imagination, and it grew stronger day by day. To him,
thenceforth, the house was haunted, and all its floating traces of
herself visible or invisible,--from the ribbon that he saw entangled in
the window-blind to every intangible and fancied atom she had imparted
to the atmosphere,--came at last to organize themselves into one
phantom shape for him and looked out, a wraith of Emilia, through those
relentless blinds. As the vision grew more vivid, he saw the dim figure
moving through the house, wan, restless, tender, lingering where they
had lingered, haunting every nook where they had been happy once. In the
windy moanings of the silent night he could put his ear at the keyhole,
and could fancy that he heard the wild signals of her love and despair.

XV. ACROSS THE BAY.

THE children, as has been said, were all devoted to Malbone, and this
was, in a certain degree, to his credit. But it is a mistake to call
children good judges of character, except in one direction, namely,
their own. They understand it, up to the level of their own stature;
they know who loves them, but not who loves virtue. Many a sinner has a
great affection for children, and no child will ever detect the sins of
such a friend; because, toward them, the sins do not exist.

The children, therefore, all loved Philip, and yet they turned with
delight, when out-door pleasures were in hand, to the strong and adroit
Harry. Philip inclined to the daintier exercises, fencing, billiards,
riding; but Harry's vigorous physique enjoyed hard work. He taught
all the household to swim, for instance. Jenny, aged five, a sturdy,
deep-chested little thing, seemed as amphibious as himself. She could
already swim alone, but she liked to keep close to him, as all young
animals do to their elders in the water, not seeming to need actual
support, but stronger for the contact. Her favorite position,
however, was on his back, where she triumphantly clung, grasping his