ly, in the chilly numbness of his mind, he saw
it--with such distinctness that he was startled. Then, a moment later,
it changed into the south chamber that had been his mother's bedroom--he
could even detect the faint scent of rose-geranium that always hung
about her; he noticed that the green shutters on the west windows were
bowed, and from between them a line of sunshine fell across the matting
on the floor and touched the four-poster that had a chintz spread and
valance. How well he knew the faded roses and the cockatoos on that old
chintz! Over there by the window he had caught her crying that time he
had hurt her feelings, "just for his own pleasure"; the old stab of this
thought pierced through the feverish mists and touched the quick. He
struggled numbly with the visualization of fever, brushing his hot hand
across his eyes and trying to see which was real--the geranium-sweet
south chamber or the chilly house on Lonely Lake Road. Athalia had given
him pain in that same way--just for her own pleasure. Poor little Tay!
He was afraid it would hurt her, some day, when she realized it; well,
when she came to herself, when she got through her playing at Shakerism,
he must not let her know how great the pain had been; she would suffer
too much if she should understand his misery: and Athalia didn't bear
suffering well.... But how long she had been getting over Shakerism! He
had thought it would only last six months, and here it was a year! Well,
if Nathan's reading of the Prophecies was right, then Athalia would
never get over it. She ought never to get over it. Then what would
become of the farm and the sawmill? And instantly everything was unreal
again; he could hear the hum of the driving-wheel and the screech of the
saw tearing through a log; how fragrant the fresh planks were, and the
great heaps of sawdust--but the noise made his head ache; and--and the
fire didn't seem hot....

It was in one of those moments when the mists thinned, and he knew that
he was shivering over the stove instead of basking in the sunshine in
his mother's room that smelled of rose-geranium leaves, that Athalia
came in. She looked conscious and confused, full of a delightful
embarrassment at being for once alone with him. The color was deep on
her cheeks, and her eyes were starry.

"Eldress asked me to bring your mail down to you, Brother Lewis," she
said.

"Thalia!" he said; "I am so glad to see you, dear; I--I seem to be
rather used