both sheets and put them back
into the envelope. Still, she did not dare to look at her father. When,
at last, she turned to him, sorely perplexed and afraid, he was still
sitting at her bedside. He had not moved a muscle, but he had changed.
If molten light had suddenly been poured over him from above, while the
rest of the room lay in shadow, he could not have changed more.

[Sidenote: As by Magic]

The sorrowful years had slipped from him, and, as though by magic, Youth
had come back. His shoulders were still stooped, his face and hands
wrinkled, and his hair was still as white as the blown snow, but his
soul was young, as never before.

"Barbara," he breathed, in ecstasy. "She died loving me."

The slender white hand stole out to his, half fearfully. "Yes, Daddy,
I've always told you so, don't you know?" Her senses whirled, but she
kept her voice even.

"She died loving me," he whispered.

The clock ticked steadily, a door closed below, and a little bird
outside chirped softly. There was no other sound save the wild beating
of Barbara's heart, which she alone heard. Still transfigured, he sat
beside the bed, holding her hand in his.

[Sidenote: Far-Away Voices]

Far-away voices sounded faintly in his ears, for, like a garment, the
years had fallen from him and taken with them the questioning and the
fear. Into his doubting heart Constance had come once more, radiant with
new beauty, thrilling his soul to new worship and new belief.

"She died loving me," he said, as though he could scarcely believe his
own words. "Barbara, I know it is much to ask, for it must be very
precious to you, but--would you let me hold the letter? Would you let me
feel the words I cannot see?"

Choking back a sob, Barbara took both sheets out of the envelope and
gave them to him. "Show me," he whispered, "show me the line where she
wrote, 'Tell him I love him still, and have never loved him more than
I do to-day.'"

When Barbara put his finger upon the words, he bent and kissed them.
"What does it say here?"

He pointed to the paragraph beginning, "I have made the mistake which
many girls make."

"It says," answered Barbara, "'There is not a word to be said of him
that is not wholly good.'" He bent and kissed that, too. "And here?" His
finger pointed to the line, "I did not know that a woman could love
love, rather than the man who gave it to her."

"That is where it says again, 'Tell him I have loved him, that I love
him