Eweretta saw that she was indeed very beautiful. She saw it in this picture as she had never seen it in her mirror.
But it was the little picture—the Madonna—that she liked best.
Dan had brought the robe she wore for this picture. It was of blue—a lovely blue of a summer sky. The nun-like head-dress, Dan’s own deft hands had arranged. She recalled that his touch had made her tremble, and that she had been angry with herself for betraying emotion. But she had not really betrayed herself at all. The slight tremor had passed unnoticed by Dan, because he was so much taken up with anxiety to hide his own emotion at such close proximity to his divinity.
Eweretta had uttered solemn warnings to Minnie Pickett in the apple-room. But she uttered no warnings to herself.
She basked in the sunshine of undefined emotions, and Mrs. Le Breton and Thomas Alvin were surprised and delighted at the change in her. She was clearly happy, happy in spite of all she had gone through.
She still looked from her window at night, and saw Philip’s light burning, but now she looked without emotion.
Another Philip, and another Eweretta, had once loved—a long, long time ago, but they were both dead.
Alvin’s idea of buying a horse for her to ride had delighted Eweretta. She had ridden much in the prairie before she had gone with her father to Montreal. She had often ridden alone to a town many miles distant to get the mail and post letters. On these occasions she had carried a revolver, for wolves were plentiful.
Riding here at Hastings would be less exciting, but very, very delightful.
The rides soon put color into her cheeks, and she lost that fragile look which had worried Alvin.