The Opened Shutters: A Novel

by Clara Louise Burnham

[ ]

CHAPTER XXX

THE LIGHT BREAKS

"Come here," said Edna, and moving aside she indicated the sketches. John drew near. "This is what was in that pillow slip yesterday."

Dunham regarded the rough work with large eyes. "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "She has it in her, hasn't she?"

"Just see the composition," returned Edna. "See the directness."

"What's it done with?" asked Dunham. "Not a brush."

"No, some sort of a stump; and it's such a queer color. I've been trying to make out—John Dunham!" Edna's tone suddenly changed. "This is that blueberry juice!"

Dunham's mouth fell open. The two stood staring at each other, and, as many perceptions and explanations flowed into their thought, they colored slowly, and as richly as sunburn would permit.

"That is the love philtre, John," said Edna, when they had been a long time silent, and she caught her lip between her teeth, for her own condemnation pressed upon her more heavily with each enlightening consideration.