The Garrisons were “at home.”
The reception tonight was in honor of a distinguished Englishman. Julie stood before the mirror, putting the last touches to her toilette; she wore a creamy lace décolleté gown, with splashes of red velvet. The Gonzola diamonds glittered in her corsage.
Her maid handed her a letter and package. It was from Joseph; now the evening would be perfect.
The boy was full of hope, enthusiasm; he had just returned from Switzerland, where he saw the Val Sinestra and the old chapel she had told him about when he was a child, at night, before he went to sleep.
I visited an artist who lives near there. He’s been in America; he didn’t say much about himself, but he drew me out to get atmosphere for a portrait he made of me, which I am sending to you, with my best love. I am writing him a long letter; I hope he will answer. He’s married to a wonderful woman; they say she has magnetic power, and it is true; she drew out all my secrets. I had to tell her about Ruth. She loves her husband with her whole soul—her eyes never leave him. They have a son, a big strong peasant lad. Mother, the artist is the most interesting man I have ever met; his hair is turning gray. He must have had a terrible struggle when he was young. I think he starved; he has deep lines in his face. I had to tear myself away. I love him, Mother, I love him! and I’m sure he loves me. When I left, he put his arms around me and kissed me; I felt his heart beating in big throbs.
“Martin’s heart-beats!”
She opened the package; Joseph laughed back at her. She gazed and gazed, until the young face vanished, and she saw Martin, with her boy in his arms.
She sank down in her chair in a rush of hysterical joy.
Martin alive! Happy; no! no! not happy—content, peaceful, at work. How wonderful! Those two had met; they loved each other. God had given her absolution. How thankful she was! how thankful!
She sprang up, peered into the mirror, and saw—a white despairing face with spotted gray unkempt hair; it faded slowly; youth had touched it. A beautiful smiling woman was reflected there, with head erect, triumphant, free from that haunting fear of years.