from that moment there was a change. "But it is only a Shadow from the
fire-light glow," said the Youth of the Town. But something within
whispered, "You are wrong; she is going to say, No."

Again and again the words repeated themselves, clearly and distinctly,
"You are wrong! you are wrong! you are wrong!" Then vaguely and almost
inaudibly, "She is going to say, No;" with his own voice he made effort
to drown the words of that fateful refrain. "It is the idle, spiteful
chatter of some evil spirit. My heart is full of Hope, and I will not
believe it." But that night, alone with his book and the face over the
fire, only embers on the hearth--_the Shadow was still there_. But
he said that it was a wild and troubled fancy--"It is not, can not be an
actual Shadow; women may change, but surely not pictures."

The next day Autumn repented of its wanton folly, and called out with
Sunshine and Brightness for the return of the dead Summer. The light
fell on the face of the girl in the Picture, but it did not lift the
Shadow. Nor did the dead Summer return to gladden the heart of the
Autumn, full of too late and useless regret. "No, I am not certain,"
said the Youth, touched with a Doubt. It was only a touch, but his step
was heavy and a trifle less quick, as he went down the street to his
Duty of the day. Again he passed by the crowded shop window. The dealer
had filled the vacant corner; but he did not see, and he did not care to
see, what was there. For there was now only one picture in all the world
for this Youth of the Town with Hope in his heart; but something else
had crowded into his heart, and it was--Doubt. He went on his way and
about his duty with this one hopeful thought: "The nightfall will bring
a change, and the Shadow will have gone." But each day the Shadow
deepened, and the Youth carried with him a more troubled and a less
hopeful heart. All those who saw the Picture, and who had seen it