her curtains, an airy flutter of her new
dress from the closet, her valedictory, tied with a white satin
ribbon, on the stand, and she saw quite plainly all which had led up
to this, and to her, Ellen Brewster; and she saw also the
inevitableness of its passing, the precious valedictory being laid
away and buried beneath a pile of future ones; she saw the crowd of
future valedictorians advancing like a flock of white doves in their
white gowns, when hers was worn out, and its beauty gone, pressing
forward, dimming her to her own vision. She saw how she would come
to look calmly and coldly upon all that filled her with such joy and
excitement to-day; how the savor of the moment would pass from her
tongue, and she said to herself that she would always remember this
moment.

Then suddenly--since she had in herself an impetus of motion which
nothing, not even reflection, could long check--she saw quite
plainly a light beyond, after all this should have passed, and the
leaping power of her spirit to gain it. And then, since she was
healthy, and given only at wide intervals to these Eastern lapses of
consciousness from the present, she was back in her day, and alive
to all its importance as a part of time.

She felt the bounding elation of tossing on the crest of her wave of
success, and the full rainbow glory of it dazzled her eyes. She was
first in her class, she was valedictorian, she had a beautiful
dress, she was young, she was first. It is a poor spirit, and one
incapable of courage in defeat, who feels not triumph in victory.
Ellen was triumphant and confident. She had faith in herself and the
love and approbation of everybody.

When she was seated with her class on the stage in the city hall,
where the graduating exercises were held, she saw herself just as
she looked, and it was with a satisfaction which had nothing weakly
in its vein, and smiled radiantly and innocently at herself as seen
in this mirror of love and appreciation of all who knew her.

[Illustration: The valedictory]

When the band stopped playing, and Ellen, who as valedictorian came
last as the crown and capsheaf of it all, stepped forward from the
semicircle of white-clad girls and seriously abashed boys, there was
a subdued murmur and then a hush all over the hall. Andrew and Fanny
and the grandmother, seated directly in front of the stage--for they
had come early to secure good seats--heard whispers of admiration on
every side. It was admir