ow
roll off, leaving me with a sense of freedom and exaltation such as I
have seldom experienced. This sense of freedom and joy and happiness was
so marked that I mentioned it at once to an intimate friend, who came to
see me that day after breakfast. I said to her: "I can only describe it
as if one had suddenly been let out of prison or taken from a dark,
dismal room into one with glorious sunshine streaming through the
windows, where the very sense of being alive is sufficient joy; in fact,
I never felt so thoroughly alive before. And the curious thing is that
there is no apparent reason for this--nothing is changed--I have not
even had any specially pleasant letters. Life is just the same on the
outer; but on the _inner?_ Well, I cannot describe it!"

"But can't you account for it at all?" asked my friend, who had been
with me through all the depressing influences of the former weeks and
was astounded, as well as delighted, by the inexplicable change in my
spirits.

"Well, it is the day after the shortest day," I said, laughing. "But it
has never had such an extraordinary effect upon me before."

All day long this exuberant feeling of delight and happiness remained. I
had no specially spiritual or religious experience in connection with
it, but rather the happy feeling of confidence that a child might have,
who, after wandering about in unknown lanes and thorny paths, suddenly
found himself transported, with no effort of his own, to the dear,
familiar house and loving home faces.

Five days later, in a private letter, I read the first allusion to the
death of Dr Richard Hodgson. It came to me in a letter from Mrs Forbes,
not as a fact, but as an uncorroborated report, which would probably be
found incorrect.

"_There is nothing about it in The Times this morning, so I don't
suppose it is true._" These were her exact words. I don't think I ever
really doubted the truth of it, although it came as a bolt out of the
blue.

Only a few days previously, a letter from an intimate friend of Dr
Hodgson in America (he had brought us together) mentioned her having
seen him lately and thinking he was really much depressed over his work
and other matters, "_though, doubtless, if I taxed him with this he
would say it was quite untrue; but I feel quite convinced that it is
true_."

These words had not at the time given me any clue to my own curious
depression, but when the first _rumour_ of his death reached me, I felt
con