er thirty
years back, on the day of her marriage, when he served as altar-boy at
her wedding; and recalled a sweet-faced girl, with light brown silken
hair, languorous blue eyes, rose-pink skin, the loveliest mouth, the
most provoking chin. Time and sorrow had dealt harshly with her, and
changed her, as the fairies might, into a thin-faced, gray-haired,
severe woman, whose dim eyes were hidden by glasses. She had retained
only her grace and dignity of manner. He recalled all this, and drew his
breath; for before him stood Anne Montgomery, as she had stood before
him at the altar; allowing that thirty years had artistically removed
the youthful brilliance of youth, but left all else untouched. The brown
hair waved above her forehead, from her plump face most of the wrinkles
had disappeared, her eyes gleamed with the old time radiance, spectacles
had been banished, a subdued color tinted her smiling face.

"Your son is not the only one to astound me," said Monsignor. "Anne, you
have brought back your youth again. What a magician is prosperity."

"It's the light-heartedness, Monsignor. To have as much money as one can
use wisely and well, to be done with scrimpin' forever, gives wan a new
heart, or a new soul. I feel as I felt the day I was married."

She might have added some information as to the share which modiste and
beautifier might claim in her rejuvenation, but Monsignor, very strict
and happily ignorant of the details of the toilet, as an ecclesiastic
should be, was lost in admiration of her. It took him ten minutes to
come to the object of his visit.

"He has long been ahead of you," she said, referring to Arthur. "I asked
him for leave to visit Ireland, and he gave it on two conditions: that I
would take Louis and Mona wid me, and refuse to interfere with this
Fenian business, no matter who asked me. I was so pleased that I
promised, and of course I can't go back on me word."

"This is a very clever young man," said Monsignor, admiring Anne's skill
in extinguishing her beautiful brogue, which, however, broke out sweetly
at times.

"Did you ever see the like of him?" she exclaimed. "I'm afraid of him.
He begins to look like himself and like his father ... glory be to God
... just from looking at the pictures of the two and thinkin' about
them. He's good and generous, but I have never got over being afeared of
him. It was only when he went back on his uncle ... on Senator Dillon
... that I plucked up courage