denied it, it burst forth through another. When you
had your sight, you created by the hand and EYE. Now, you will create
by the hand and EAR. The power is the same. It merely works through
another channel. But oh, think what it means! Think! The world lies
before you once more!"

Garth laughed, and put up his hand to the dear face, still wet with
thankful tears.

"Oh, bother the world!" he said. "I don't want the world. I only want
my wife."

Jane put her arms around him. Ah, what a boy he was in some ways! How
full of light-hearted, irrepressible, essential youth. Just then she
felt so much older than he; but how little that mattered. The better
could she wrap him round with the greatness of her tenderness; shield
him from every jar or disillusion; and help him to make the most of his
great gifts.

"I know, darling," she said. "And you have her. She is just ALL YOURS.
But think of the wonderful future. Thank God, I know enough of the
technical part, to write the scores of your compositions. And,
Garth,--fancy going together to noble cathedrals, and hearing your
anthems sung; and to concerts where the most perfect voices in the
world will be doing their utmost adequately to render your songs. Fancy
thrilling hearts with pure harmony, stirring souls with tone-pictures;
just as before you used to awaken in us all, by your wonderful
paintings, an appreciation and comprehension of beauty."

Garth raised his head. "Is it really as good as that, Jane?" he said.

"Dear," answered Jane, earnestly, "I can only tell you, that when you
sang it first, and I had not the faintest idea it was yours, I said to
myself: 'It is the most beautiful thing I ever heard.'"

"I am glad," said Garth, simply. "And now, let's talk of something
else. Oh, I say, Jane! The present is too wonderful, to leave any
possible room for thoughts about the future. Do talk about the present."

Jane smiled; and it was the smile of "The Wife"--mysterious;
compassionate; tender; self-surrendering. She leaned over him, and
rested her cheek upon his head.

"Yes, darling. We will talk of this very moment, if you wish. You
begin."

"Look at the house, and describe it to me, as you see it in the
moonlight."

"Very grey, and calm, and restful-looking. And so home-like, Garthie."

"Are there lights in the windows?"

"Yes. The library lights are just as we left them. The French window is
standing wide open. The pedestal lamp, under a crimson silk shade