"Yes," he said. "All right. I'll promise, mother."
When she had left him he stood for a while in the centre of the floor, hands in pockets, his head drooping, in deep thought. He was a spare man, lean and tall, bred to composure, and serenity. Thus when there came a tragedy to overwhelm his training, he had few reserves; his propriety of demeanor lost, his soul was raw. His very attitude, as he stood, was eloquent of pain and helplessness. He had been married a little more than a year, and it seemed now as though that year stood vignetted on a broad border of sadness.
The fire rustled and clicked as the coals spent themselves. He had a feeling of chill and faintness, and he went back slowly to his chair. Seated there again, the silver toys were all round him, gleaming slyly at him with a sort of suggestiveness. He packed up the mirror, once more, and looked into the oval glass at it. He was feeling a little dizzy, these last days had burdened him heavily, and the afternoon had been a long stress of emotion. Thus, for a space of minutes he sat, the glass before him, his eyes half closed.
It seemed to him that he must have dozed, for he sat up with the start of a man who arrests himself on the brink of sleep. The mirror was in his hand. He stared at it with wide eyes, thrusting it at arm's length before him. For in it he saw—not a flicker of the firelight swaying on the wall, but a face that moved across from the door—the face of his dead wife.
He saw it cross the field of the little mirror, reflected in profile, and pass beyond it. He sat yet a moment, enthralled in senseless amazement, then let the glass fall from his outstretched hand, and turned where he sat.
He sprang to his feet. "Hilda!" he cried. "Hilda!"
Her face welcomed him with a little smile, sober and kind.
"Yes, dear," she said gently; "it is Hilda!"
He did not go to her, but stood staring, and groping for the key to his understanding. She was about five paces from him—Hilda undeniably, to the soft contour of her cheek and the shaded gold of her hair.
He found words: "Are you here with me, Hilda? Or have I gone mad? Or perhaps I've been mad all along!"