im, but when he
goes the longing and the dream begin again and I build up other ideals
of him which he will destroy the first time that we come together. Is it
because I have never really got to the thing that he is eternally--to
the soul of him--that he creates in me this agony of expectancy and of
disappointment? When I meet him to-morrow may it not happen that for the
first time he will fulfill all the ideals of him that I have made?"

And it seemed to her almost impossible that she should wait the
twenty-four intervening hours before making her final discovery--that
she should exist a day and a night in utter vacancy while the ultimate
moment still beckoned her from to-morrow. Would time never pass? Was
there no way of strangling it before it came to birth? She picked up her
favourite books from her desk--Spinoza, Shelley, "The Imitation of
Christ"--but the throbbing vitality in her own breast caused the printed
pages to turn chill and lifeless.

A mirror was placed over the mantel and she looked closely into it,
meeting her profound gaze and the poetic charm which hung like an
atmosphere about her delicate figure. She felt at the instant that she
would have given her life--her soul even and its infinite
possibilities--for an exterior of Gerty's brilliant beauty. The
blackness of her hair, the prominence of her brow, the faint amber
pallor of her skin, provoked her into a sensation of anger; and she
turned away with an emotion that was almost one of bitterness. A minute
later it seemed to her that the afternoon would pass more quickly if she
spent it out of doors, and as she slipped into her walking clothes she
thought with relief of the crowded streets and of the noises that would
drown the consciousness of her own thoughts. When Angela called to her
as she passed along the hall it was with a movement of irritation that
she turned the handle of the door and entered the invalid's room, where
the pale winter sunshine fell over the tall white candles and uncarpeted
floor.

Mrs. Payne, in her black velvet and old rose point, sat by the window
reading aloud in her shrill voice extracts from a society paper which
she had brought for the purpose of entertaining her sister. In the
conventual atmosphere in which Angela lived the biting scandals and
malicious gossip of the worldly old woman always produced upon Laura an
impression of mere vulgar insincerity. To have lived over seventy years
and still to find one's chief i