esigned while Balder was still an infant.

He threw himself off the bed and stepped to the window, and saw the
blue sky and the river rhyming it. The breath of the orchard visited
him, and he was greeted by the green grass and trees, He sighed with
relief. There had been three mornings since his return to America. For
the first he had blessed his own senses; the second had looked him out
of countenance but the third came with a benediction, serene and
mighty, such as Balder's soul had not hitherto been open to.

"This is more than a plaster heaven," said he, looking up; "but I
fear, Balder Helwyse, your only heaven, thus far, has been of plaster.
You have seen this morning how the God of such a heaven looks. How
about the God of this larger Heaven, think you?"

Presently he turned away from the window; but he had quaffed so deeply
of the morning glory, that the sinister frescos no longer depressed
him. They were ridiculously unimportant,--nothing more than stains on
the wall, in fact. Balder could not tell why he felt light-hearted. It
was solemn light-heartedness,--not the gayety of sensuous spirits,
such as he had experienced heretofore. It had little to do with
physical well-being, for the young man was still faint and dizzy, and
weak from hunger. Behold, then, at the foot of the bed, a carved table
covered with a damask cloth and crowned with an abundant breakfast;
not an ordinary breakfast of coffee, rolls, omelette, and beefsteak,
but a pastoral breakfast,--fresh milk, bread and honey and fruit and
mellow cheese,--such food as Adam might have begun the day with.

In face of the yet unsolved mystery of his own presence in the room,
this new surprise caused Balder no special wonder. Beyond the
apparition of the ugly dumb woman, he recollected nothing of the
previous evening's experience. Could she have transported him hither?
Well, he would not let himself be disturbed by apparent miracles. "No
doubt the explanation is simple," thought he; and with that he began
his toilet. The dressing-table displayed a variety of dainty articles
such as a lady might be supposed to use,--pearl-handled brushes,
enamelled powder-boxes, slender vases of Meissen porcelain, a fanciful
ring-stand; from the half-open drawer a rich glimpse of an Indian fan;
a pair of delicate kid gloves, which only a woman's hands could have
worn, were thrown carelessly on the table. There were still the little
wrinkles in the fingers, but time had chan