And they went out together and left me. With a sigh of contentment I lay back and almost immediately fell asleep once more. When I awoke the room was darkening, and stars were beginning to shine without. But a soft, clear light shone from the ceiling, and by this I rose. “Now,” thought I, as the clear water of life dashed over me, giving freshness and vigour to every nerve, “I wonder if these people will remark about my plain apparel as the last did.” And I went back into the bedroom. Behold! there upon the sofa, by the window, was a civic robe and outer mantle of such exquisite beauty, yet so simply made, that I went nearer to inspect it. “This, undoubtedly,” thought I, “will just fit me. And were it not meant for me it would not be here.” Whereupon I took it up and put it on. It fitted with an ease and nicety which surprised me. “They must have taken my measurements before,” thought I, and laughed. “And if for nothing else, I am obliged to wear it out of compliment.” A large mirror stood in the wall, and chancing to look in it I was most fully satisfied with my appearance, which might, of course, be prejudice. Thus attired I went out along a short corridor which led from my room into one fitted up with curious spinning-wheels. They were all silent now, and no one was there, but from the open windows came the sweet, sad song of even, the birds twittering in the neighbouring trees, and the stillness that comes with night. The polished floor shone under the rays of a pale crescent moon which reflected the shadow of a tall poplar across the room. I stood still and viewed it, and then passed on to a door at the farther end. When I opened it a flood of light burst from a wide corridor, having doors up either side of it and at the farther end a staircase leading down. To this I went and passed down, much struck with the resemblance between this and the home of Plucritus, in outward things at least. But with what change of feeling I walked along these halls! Light expectancy took the place of dull disinterestedness, and cheerfulness the place of hard despair. On the lower step Sunbeam sat, reading a book and I realised with startling vividness the difference between her and the creature I had once beheld in the halls of Hell. As I drew near she shut the book and ran up the few remaining steps to meet me. “We’re having three extra things for tea,” she murmured confidentially, “because you are here. And mother has had word that father may be home in time for it too.” She held my hand and danced down in the best of good spirits by my side. She led me to the room where tea was laid, and the greatest things I noticed were cheerfulness and comfort round about. A glorious fire was burning, for it was that time of year when the air was very sharp, and in front of it a noble hound was lying fast asleep.