ceptance; but she checked herself almost as quickly, and answered:
"Oh, yes, thank you, as a curiosity." Then slowly put it between her glove and hand.
As Miss Brandt and her company rode away, said Miss Hjelm's cousin, a handsome, middle-aged widow, to her:
"How is it, Ingeborg? It appears to me you laugh with one eye and weep with the other."
"Yes: a soap-bubble has burst for me, and glitters, maybe, for another."
"You know I seldom understand the sentimental enigmas: can you not interpret your words?"
"Yes: to-day an illusion has vanished, that had lasted for six years."
"For six years?" said her cousin, with an inquiring or sympathizing look. "So it began when you were hardly sixteen years."
"Now do you believe, that when I was in my sixteenth year I saw an ideal of a man, and was enamoured of him, and to-day I hear that he is married."
"No, I don't know as I believe just that," answered the cousin, dropping her eyes; "but I suppose that then you had a pretty vision, and have carried it along with you in silence—and with faith."
