rush. For then the most reticent becomes confiding; the most
self-contained expands. Then every detail of our past lives assumes
an importance which even we had not divined. To her we tell them
all,--our boyish beliefs, our youthful fancies, the foolish with
the fine, the witty with the wise, the little with the great.
Nothing then seems quite unworthy, as nothing seems quite worthy
enough. Flowers and weeds that we plucked upon our pathway, we heap
them in her lap, certain that even the poorest will not be tossed
aside. Small wonder that we bring as many as we may when she bends
her head so lovingly to each.

As our past rises in reminiscence with all its oldtime reality, no
less clearly does our future stand out to us in mirage. What we
would be seems as realizable as what we were. Seen by another
beside ourselves, our castles in the air take on something of the
substance of stereoscopic sight. Our airiest fancies seem solid
facts for their reality to her, and gilded by lovelight, they
glitter and sparkle like a true palace of the East. For once all is
possible; nothing lies beyond our reach. And as we talk, and she
listens, we two seem to be floating off into an empyrean of our own
like the summer clouds above our heads, as they sail dreamily on
into the far-away depths of the unfathomable sky.

It would be more than mortal not to believe in ourselves when
another believes so absolutely in us. Our most secret thoughts are
no longer things to be ashamed of, for she has sanctioned them.
Whatever doubt may have shadowed us as to our own imaginings
disappears before the smile of her appreciation. That her
appreciation may be prejudiced is not a possibility we think of
then. She understands us, or seems to do so to our own better