“Of course she may—that’s where the fun comes in,” said Miss Winchester, less serious.
Adele’s mother looked up in alarm. “What are you laughing at, Frank? Has she already been getting into scrapes?”
“Oh, no scrape, but I saw her on her dignity in a little scene at Benares.”
“What was it?”
“We were in one of the temples, and a young Brahmin approached her when she was a little distance from us and alone. He was a good-looking young fellow, and he seemed to know it. What he said I don’t know, and what she saw wrong in him I can only conjecture, but the few glances she gave him put him in a different frame of mind. He certainly changed his manner and bearing as if forced to recognize some superiority in her. One doesn’t often see that sort of thing in young Brahmins, or their elders either. Only too often that caste seems to arrogate to itself a special license to do as it pleases.”
“There! I told you she was never afraid!” exclaimed Mrs. Cultus. “Adele changed that fellow’s mind by a glance—and a Brahmin at that; overcome by the use of his own weapons. No, she is fearless. Whatever she does, she’s never afraid. Very mysterious, yet so much common sense to make it effective. It is as if—as if—oh, how shall I express what I want to say in a few words? as if—the truth had made her free.”
“Why, she must be a veritable Christian Psychologist,” said Miss Winchester, seriously.
“There is no doubt of it,” answered Adele’s mother, confidently. “Adele believes in the Greatest Psychologist that ever lived.”
No more was said, and Mrs. Cultus pondered over these things in her heart. The exertion of talking had fatigued her, in spite of the increased spiritual strength which had been born of her suffering. While looking at some flowers which Paul had brought into her room, their beauty seemed to lift her soul beyond them. Was it into the region of her own youth, or of Adele’s youth?—or more beautiful still, the realm of Perpetual Youth? Sleep came nigh.
She noticed that Paul’s flowers were buds just ready to bloom. There was among them a lily, not a lily of the valley but of the Annunciation; an Easter lily, double emblem of new life—new life here, and resurrection into the New Life of Perpetual Youth. It was the same sort of lily that she remembered seeing in a sacred picture representing an Angel’s Visit.