Youth cannot bear isolation. Solitude is for age, full stored with memory, knowledge and mental resources. Youth cannot bear it and preserve mental or spiritual health; youth must have companionship, sympathy and friendships.
Under incessant toil and loneliness the high courage of the girl broke down when illness fell upon her. She was, therefore, in the very best mood to accept this new friendship and society, as a prisoner accepts a release from prison.
For the first time since she had fallen ill, she lay down and slept the dreamless, wholesome, restoring sleep of returning health, ate with a slight but real relish, and when Mr. Dewness called, after supper, she looked marvelously brighter and better.
With what delight she greeted her lost wheel, when, carefully wrapped, they placed her upon its familiar saddle! How keenly she relished the balmy outdoor air of the quiet, maple-shaded street! With what sweet, womanly childishness she laughed at David’s gentle pleasantries! It was only a few minutes, for David was very careful to take her in before she was tired, and then he hastened away and presently returned with a boy bearing a tray on which were luscious ripe strawberries, a little pitcher of fresh cream, sugar, three or four big juicy oranges, a lemon and ice-cream. She was permitted by the doctor to eat just a taste of the berries and a teaspoonful of the cream, while David and Mrs. Dalrymple and the doctor ate to keep her company. And then David went away, and she slept like a tired child. Sometimes how very little makes a great happiness!
The ghost having become alive, the rest of the story almost tells itself. How they plighted their troth and named the day; and how the wedding was one of the happiest the club ever attended, and everybody said they were the most suitable and loving pair ever joined together—all these items the reader can imagine.
But the mystery remains to be cleared. One evening while the house was not yet complete, the two lovers sat together in the moonlight, talking over, for the twentieth time, their strange experience, when David said:
“After all, Daphne, there is one thing that puzzles me more than all the rest. I never could tell, when I saw your ghost, exactly what you wore.”
Daphne blushed celestial fire, and hid her face with her hands, peeping through her fingers shyly at David, and wondering to see him evidently seriously in earnest.
“You seemed to me,” continued David, not noticing her confusion, “at one moment to be in a gray riding-habit, but the next moment you wore your black or brown walking-dress, and when you faded out of sight, my last vision of you was in some sort of white robe. Now, how do you account for that?”
“Then I never appeared to you except in some dress? You could see me only in some dress, David?”