And he said: 'Man--why--didn't--you--wait? Bess was--'
Then he fell dead. And I've been haunted by his look and words.
Oh, Bess, what a strange, splendid thing for Oldring to do! It
all seems impossible. But, dear, you really are not what you
thought."
"Elizabeth Erne!" cried Jane Withersteen. "I loved your mother
and I see her in you!"
What had been incredible from the lips of men became, in the
tone, look, and gesture of a woman, a wonderful truth for Bess.
With little tremblings of all her slender body she rocked to and
fro on her knees. The yearning wistfulness of her eyes changed to
solemn splendor of joy. She believed. She was realizing
happiness. And as the process of thought was slow, so were the
variations of her expression. Her eyes reflected the
transformation of her soul. Dark, brooding, hopeless
belief--clouds of gloom--drifted, paled, vanished in glorious
light. An exquisite rose flush--a glow--shone from her face as
she slowly began to rise from her knees. A spirit uplifted her.
All that she had held as base dropped from her.
Venters watched her in joy too deep for words. By it he divined
something of what Lassiter's revelation meant to Bess, but he
knew he could only faintly understand. That moment when she
seemed to be lifted by some spiritual transfiguration was the
most beautiful moment of his life. She stood with parted,
quivering lips, with hands tightly clasping the locket to her
heaving breast.
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