yet. Though she said she never considered
me young, I am barely thirty. There are moments when life, for no other
reason than my own youth, beams with sweet hues upon me.

"It was time to go to the schoolroom. I went. That same schoolroom is
rather pleasant in a morning. The sun then shines through the low
lattice; the books are in order; there are no papers strewn about; the
fire is clear and clean; no cinders have fallen, no ashes accumulated. I
found Henry there, and he had brought with him Miss Keeldar. They were
together.

"I said she was lovelier than ever. She is. A fine rose, not deep but
delicate, opens on her cheek. Her eye, always dark, clear, and speaking,
utters now a language I cannot render; it is the utterance, seen not
heard, through which angels must have communed when there was 'silence
in heaven.' Her hair was always dusk as night and fine as silk, her neck
was always fair, flexible, polished; but both have now a new charm. The
tresses are soft as shadow, the shoulders they fall on wear a goddess
grace. Once I only _saw_ her beauty, now I _feel_ it.

"Henry was repeating his lesson to her before bringing it to me. One of
her hands was occupied with the book; he held the other. That boy gets
more than his share of privileges; he dares caress and is caressed. What
indulgence and compassion she shows him! Too much. If this went on,
Henry in a few years, when his soul was formed, would offer it on her
altar, as I have offered mine.

"I saw her eyelid flitter when I came in, but she did not look up; _now_
she hardly ever gives me a glance. She seems to grow silent too; to _me_
she rarely speaks, and when I am present, she says little to others. In
my gloomy moments I attribute this change to indifference, aversion,
what not? In my sunny intervals I give it another meaning. I say, were I
her equal, I could find in this shyness coyness, and in that coyness
love. As it is, dare I look for it? What could I do with it if found?

"This morning I dared at least contrive an hour's communion for her and
me; I dared not only _wish_ but _will_ an interview with her. I dared
summon solitude to guard us. Very decidedly I called Henry to the door.
Without hesitation I said, 'Go where you will, my boy; but, till I call
you, return not here.'

"Henry, I could see, did not like his dismissal. That boy is young, but
a thinker; his meditative eye shines on me strangely sometimes. He half
feels what links me to Shirley