inactivity and silence, while I sat or reclined, not thinking but in a
reverie, while many dreams of pleasures to come drifted in a vague,
vaporous manner through my brain. The very character of the room--its
delicate richness, the exquisitely harmonious disposition of colors and
objects, and the illusions of nature produced on the mind--seemed to
lend itself to this unaccustomed mood, and to confirm me in it.

The first impression produced was one of brightness: coming to it by way
of the long, dim sculpture gallery was like passing out into the open
air, and this effect was partly due to the white and crystal surfaces
and the brilliancy of the colors where any color appeared. It was
spacious and lofty, and the central arched or domed portion of the roof,
which was of a light turquoise blue, rested on graceful columns of
polished crystal. The doors were of amber-colored glass set in agate
frames; but the windows, eight in number, formed the principal
attraction. On the glass, hill and mountain scenery was depicted, the
summits in some of them appearing beyond wide, barren plains, whitened
with the noonday splendor and heat of midsummer, untempered by a cloud,
the soaring peaks showing a pearly luster which seemed to remove them to
an infinite distance. To look out, as it were, from the imitation shade
of such an arbor, or pavilion, over those far-off, sun-lit expanses
where the light appeared to dance and quiver as one gazed, was a
never-failing delight. Such was its effect on me, combined with that of
the mother's new tender graciousness, resulting I knew not whether from
compassion or affection, that I could have wished to remain a permanent
invalid in her room.

Another cause of the mild kind of happiness I now experienced was the
consciousness of a change in my own mental disposition, which made me
less of an alien in the house; for I was now able, I imagined, to