he creator, and as she mused upon its mysteries, life took a new,
strange meaning to her. It was apt to be a little hazy off there in the
watery horizon, and out of the mist would glide occasionally a boat, and
the sun would silver its sails, and it would dip and toss for half
an hour in the blue, laughing sea, and then disappear through the
mysterious curtain. Whence did it come? Whither had it gone? Was life
like that? Was she on the shore of such a sea, and was this new world
into which she was drifting only a dream? By her smile, by the momentary
illumination that her sweet thoughts made in her lovely, hopeful face,
you knew that it was not. Who can guess the thoughts of a woman at such
a time? Are the trees glad in the spring, when the sap leaps in their
trunks, and the buds begin to swell, and the leaves unfold in soft
response to the creative impulse? The miracle is never old nor
commonplace to them, nor to any of the human family. The anticipation
of life is eternal. The singing of the birds, the blowing of the south
wind, the sparkle of the waves, all found a response in Edith's heart,
which leaped with joy. And yet there was a touch of melancholy in it
all, the horizon was so vast, and the mist of uncertainty lay along it.
Literature, society, charities, all that she had read and experienced
and thought, was nothing to this, this great unknown anxiety and bliss,
this saddest and sweetest of all human experiences. She prayed that
she might be worthy of this great distinction, this responsibility and
blessing.

And Jack, dear Jack, would he love her more?

XII

Although Father Damon had been absent from his charge only ten days, it
was time for him to return. If he had not a large personal following,
he had a wide influence. If comparatively few found their way to his
chapel, he found his way to many homes; his figure was a familiar one
in the streets, and his absence was felt by hundreds who had no personal
relations with him, but who had become accustomed to seeing him go about
on his errands of encouragement, and probably had never realized how
much the daily sight of him had touched them. The priestly dress, which
may once have provoked a sneer at his effeminacy, had now a suggestion
of refinement, of unselfish devotion, of consecration to the service of
the unfortunate, his spiritual face appealed to their better natures,
and the visible heroism that carried his frail figure through labors
that wou