dart has transfixed his manly form, and he falls pierced
and bleeding at your feet?"

"My dear child, let me tell you a pretty little tale. Once upon a time
there was a friend of mine, who thought a good deal of me, and of whom I
thought more than he knew, poor man--enough to make you jealous,
Bob."--Now who the devil was that, confound him? I never heard of him
before. It must have been that winter she spent in Boston, just after
she came out. That's over five years ago; he's probably dead or married
before this. Well, get on with your pretty little tale: not that I see
much prettiness about it.--"And when I would tease him to tell me some
secret, he would answer, in his own well-chosen language. Some day you
will know: you wait and see. By-by, baby!"--and away she dashed.

My tongue went too fast last night. Her heart _is_ waking; her wings are
sprouting. She must be getting interested in Jim. The hour is at hand,
and the man: the horn at the castle-gate will soon be sounded, and
presto! the transformation scene. That will be a spectacle for gods and
men, now; but no tickets will be sold at the doors--admittance only by
private card, and that to a very select few. I don't want any change in
you, Princess; but I suppose the angels would like to see the depths in
you that you haven't sounded, the fairer and wider chambers of your soul
opened to the light. God grant that light may need no darkness to come
before it, no storm-tossed, doubtful daybreak. If the change is for
your happiness, no matter about us. You are moving toward a land where I
cannot follow you; a land of mystery and wonder and awakening, of new
beauties and glories and perils, and possibilities unknown and
infinite--a journey wherein you can have no guide but your own pure
instincts, no adviser but your own untried heart. God be with you, for
Jane and Mabel can do no more than I. We shall hear no word from you
till all be over, and then the Clarice of old will return to us no more.
Transfigured she may be and beatified, but not the one we knew and loved
so long. Little sister, all these years I have been at your side or
ready at your call, and now you will not call and I cannot come to help
you; for in these matters the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a
stranger doth not intermeddle with its joy. May it be joy and not the
other! God be with them both, for it is a dangerous country where they
are going; a region of mists and pitfalls and morasses,