There is but a word to add. The walls of the library wing had sustained but little damage in the fire; consequently, the process of rebuilding and refitting was made so much the easier. The stained glass, of course, had been entirely destroyed, but for that there could be few regrets; all those Old Testament pictures had been scenes of hatred and violence and divine wrath. It were better that Little Hugh should never see them and so have his childish imagination darkened. They have been replaced by windows of a softer nature—green pastures and still water, the lilies and poppies of the Parsifal meadows on Good Friday morning, and the peace of the everlasting hills. No chance here for even the unwitting insertion of that terrible purple boss; indeed the grapes of wrath were no longer in existence, for Chalmers Warriner had taken pains to have every bit of the disjecta membra of the old windows gathered up and buried in some inaccesible pit, its very location to remain forever hidden from human eyes.
To-day the library at "Hildebrand Hundred," exorcised of its dark spirit, is again our favorite living-room. The teakwood desk and the great swivel-chair were destroyed in the fire, and indeed all the old fittings and hangings have given way to bright and cheerful modern furnishings. As I sit at my desk, writing the final page of these memoirs, the sun lies warm and glowing upon the oaken floor, but there is no hidden menace in its beauty. The scent of roses floats through the open windows, and I can hear the clip of Betty's garden shears as she cuts off the perfumed coupons of her floral treasures; one by one the gorgeous blooms fall into the waiting basket; our dinner table must be resplendent to-night for Chalmers and Hilda, just back from their honeymoon journey, are coming to us for an intimate partie carrée.
And in the middle distance stands Little Hugh, the breeze roughing up his sleek, black poll, his legs planted confidently wide apart, and his gaze traveling outward upon the fair, broad acres that some day will be all his own; my lawful son and heir, a true Hildebrand of "Hildebrand Hundred."
Truly, God is good and life is sweet.