Fugen eBooks

He drew his mother's low chair to the hearth, and his
kindled fancy placed Helen in it. Memory could so reproduce her
lovely and familiar features that her presence became almost a
reality. In a sense he watched her changing expression and heard
her low, mellow tones. The truth that both would express an
affection akin to his own grew upon his consciousness like the
incoming of a sun-lighted tide. The darkness and storm without
became only the background of his pictures, enhancing every
prophetic representation. The night passed in ecstatic waking
dreams of all that the word "home" suggests when a woman, loved as
he loved Helen, was its architect.
The days and weeks which followed were filled with divine
enchantment; the prosaic world was transfigured; the intricacies
of the law were luminous with the sheen of gold, becoming the
quartz veins from which he would mine wealth for Helen; the plants
in his little rose-house were cared for with caressing tenderness
because they gave buds which would be worn over the heart now
throbbing for him.


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