al life as
distinct persons, made it impossible for them to take any other view of
the matter.

In their eyes the past was good or bad for itself, and the present good
or bad for itself, and an evil past could no more shadow a virtuous
present than a virtuous present could retroact to brighten or redeem an
ugly past. It is the soul that repents which is ennobled by repentance.
The soul that did the deed repented of is past forgiving. There was no
affectation on the part of Paul or Miss Ludington of ignoring the fraud
which Ida had practised, or pretending to forget it. This was not
necessary out of any consideration for her feelings, for they did not
hold that it was she who was guilty of that fraud, but another person.

As gradually she comprehended the way in which they looked upon her, and
came to perceive that they unquestioningly held that she had no
responsibility for her past self, but was a new being, she was filled
with a great exhilaration, the precise like of which was, perhaps, never
before known to a repentant wrong-doer. As they believed, so would she
believe. With a great joy she put the shameful past behind her and took
up her new life. "As a man thinketh in his heart so is he."

If she had loved Paul before, if she had before felt tenderly toward Miss
Ludington, a passion of gratitude now intensified her love, her
tenderness, a thousand-fold.

Miss Ludington's failing health was the only shadow on the perfect
happiness of the lovers during those two weeks of courtship. Compared
with the intoxicating reality of these golden days Paul looked back on
his wooing of the supposed Ida Ludington as a vague and unsatisfying
dream.

Now that Ida was no longer playing a part, he was really just becoming
acquainted with her, and finding out what manner of maiden it was to whom
he had lost his heart. Each day, almost each hour, discovered to him some
new trait, some unsuspected grace of mind or heart, till, in this glowing
girl, so bright, so blithe, so piquant, he had difficulty in recognizing
any likeness, save of face and form, to the moody, freakish, melancholy,
hysterical, and altogether eerie Ida Ludington.

"I am so glad," Miss Ludington said to her one day, "that you are Ida
Slater, and not my Ida."

"Why are you glad?" Ida asked. "Would you not have been happier if you
had gone on believing me to be your girlish self?"

"I should have grown very sad by this time if I had continued to think
that yo