I should meet her again,--that we never could be really
parted. But, my God, how I have changed since then! I am another man,--I
am a different being. I was not very young even then,--twenty years older
than she was; but her youth renewed mine. I was not an unfit partner; she
asked no better, and knew as much more than I did in some things,--being
so much nearer the source,--as I did in others that were of the world.
But I have gone a long way since then, Phil,--a long way; and there she
stands, just where I left her."

I pressed his arm again. "Father," I said, which was a title I seldom
used, "we are not to suppose that in a higher life the mind stands
still." I did not feel myself qualified to discuss such topics, but
something one must say.

"Worse, worse!" he replied; "then she too will be, like me, a different
being, and we shall meet as what? as strangers, as people who have lost
sight of each other, with a long past between us,--we who parted, my God!
with--with--"

His voice broke and ended for a moment then while, surprised and almost
shocked by what he said, I cast about in my mind what to reply, he
withdrew his arm suddenly from mine, and said in his usual tone, "Where
shall we hang the picture, Phil? It must be here in this room. What do
you think will be the best light?"

This sudden alteration took me still more by surprise, and gave me almost
an additional shock; but it was evident that I must follow the changes of
his mood, or at least the sudden repression of sentiment which he
originated. We went into that simpler question with great seriousness,
consulting which would be the best light. "You know I can scarcely
advise," I said; "I have never been familiar with this room. I should
like to put off, if you don't mind, till daylight."

"I think," he said, "that this would be the best place." It was on the
other side of the fireplace, on the wall which faced the windows,--not
the best light, I knew enough to be aware, for an oil-painting. When I
said so, however, he answered me with a little impatience, "It does not
matter very much about the best light; there will be nobody to see it but
you and me. I have my reasons--" There was a small table standing against
the wall at this spot, on which he had his hand as he spoke. Upon it
stood a little basket in very fine lace-like wicker-work. His hand must
have trembled, for the table shook, and the basket fell, its contents
turning out upon the carpet,--l