d she never seen this writing before? Why had the debt she
owed this long suffering and now alienated benefactress, never before
been acknowledged before the tribunal of conscience? Because her heart
was awakening out of a life-long sleep, and the light of a new creation
was beaming around her.
She took the lamp, and placing it in front of the mirror, gazed
deliberately on her person.
"Am I handsome?" she mentally asked, taking out her comb, whose pressure
seemed intolerable, and suffering the dark redundance of her hair to
flow, unrestrained, around her. "Louis says that I am, and methinks this
mirror reflects a glorious image. Surely I am changed, or I have never
really looked on myself before."
Yes! she was changed. The light within the cold, alabaster vase was
kindled, giving a life and a glow to what was before merely symmetrical
and classic. There was a color coming and going in her cheek, a warm
lustre coming and going in her eye, and she could not tell whence it
came, nor whither it went.
From this evening a new era in her life commenced.
Days and weeks glided by, and Clinton still remained the guest of Louis.
He sometimes spoke of going home, but Louis said--"not yet"--and the
sudden paleness of Mittie's cheek spoke volumes. During all this time,
they had walked, and rode, and talked together, and the enchantment had
become stronger and more pervading Mr. Gleason sometimes thought he
ought not to allow so close an intimacy between his daughter and a young
man of whose private character he knew so little, but when he reflected
how soon he was to depart to his distant home, probably never to return,
there seemed little danger to be apprehended from his short sojourn with
them. Then Mittie, though she might be susceptible of admiration for
his splendid qualities, and though her vanity might be gratified by his
apparent devotion--_Mittie had no heart_. If it were Helen, it would be
a very different thing, but Mittie was incapable of love, uninflammable
as asbestos, and cold as marble.
Mrs. Gleason, with the quicker perception of woman, penetrated deeper
than her husband, and saw that passions were aroused in that hitherto
insensible heart which, if opposed, might be terrible in their power.
Since her conversation with Mittie, where she yielded up all attempt at
maternal influence, and like "Ephraim joined to idols, _let her alone_,"
she had never uttered a word of counsel or rebuke. She had been coldly,
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