d so beneficent. She spoke of this so often and so wistfully
that it seemed to Gladys to precipitate an illusion, which afterward
absorbed her mind to the exclusion of all else.

VIII.

One sinister day when the slate-hued clouds hung low, and the valley was
dark and drear with its dense leafless forests, when the mountains
gloomed a sombre purple and no sound but the raucous cawing of crows
broke upon the sullen air, Lillian's paroxysms of grief seemed to reach a
climax. Their intensity alarmed her two companions, and the forced
composure and latent strength of character of Gladys were tried to the
utmost to sustain her own equilibrium. But as the afternoon wore away
Lillian grew calmer, though her mind never deviated from the subject. The
trio had ceased to sit in the large reception hall, for its gun-rack and
rods and reels, its fur rugs, its trophies of sport, its mandolin and
flute and piano, were now pathetically reminiscent of the vanished
presence of its joyous and genial owner. They used instead the small
library which opened from it, where a spacious bay-window gave ample
light in the dreary days, and the big wood fire sent its flash and
fragrance to the remotest corner. It filled with a rich glow the fabric
of the little red coat as the mother held the sleeve to her lips and then
turned it to readjust the cuff creased in folding. "He used to look so
pretty in it. My beauty! My baby! My own!" she cried out in a voice
muffled, half-smothered, by her choking throat. "And he thought it so
fine! He valued it beyond all his other possessions," she continued
presently with a melancholy smile, even while the tears, so bitter that
they stung her cheeks, coursed down her face; for she had begun to find a
languid, sad pleasure now and then in discursive reminiscence, and
Gladys, who knew the little fellow so well, could respond with discretion
and stimulate this resource for the promotion of calm and resignation.
"You remember, Gladys, don't you, how he delighted in these pockets? You
were with me when he first got the coat. He doubted if he were really
going to have pockets, because there were none in his little white
reefer. Do you remember how he looked when I lifted the flap--isn't the
embroidery lovely?--and put his dear little hand into his first pocket?
How surprised he was when I showed him this pocket between the facing and
the lining! I wanted him to have enough pockets