When my summons was answered, I rushed upstairs. Wilderspin
stood at the studio door, listening, apparently, to the sound of the
blacksmith's anvil coming in from the back of Maud Street through the
open window. Though his sorrowful face told all, I cried out,
'Wilderspin, she's safe? You said she was safe?'
'My friend,' said Wilderspin solemnly, 'the news I have to give you
is news that I knew you would rather receive when you could hear it
alone.'
'You said she was safe!'
'Yes, safe indeed! She whom you, under some strange but no doubt
beneficent hallucination, believe to be the lady you lost in Wales,
is safe indeed, for she is in the spirit-land with her whose blessing
lent her to me--she has returned to her who was once a female
blacksmith at Oldhill, and is now the brightest, sweetest, purest
saint in Paradise.'
Dead! My soul had been waiting for the word--expecting it ever since
I left the studio with my mother--but now it sounded more dreadful
than if it had come as a surprise.
'Tell me all,' I cried, 'at once--at once.
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