The gates ajar. By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps.

The Gates Ajar 131
X.
Jule ii.
I was in her room this afternoon while she
wvas dressing. I like to watch her brush her
beautiful gray hair; it quite alters her face to
have it down; it seems to shrine her in like a
cloud, and the outlines of her cheeks round
out, and she grows young.
" I used to be proud of my hair when I was
a girl," she said with a slight blush, as she saw
me looking at her; "it was all I had to be
vain of, and I made the most of it. Ah well!
I was dark-haired three years ago.
"0 you regular old woman!" she added,
smiling at herself in the mirror, as she twisted
the silver coils flashing through her fingers.
"Well, when I am in heaven, I shall have my
pretty brown hair again."
It seemed odd enough to hear that; then the
next minute it did not seem odd at all, but the
most natural thing in the world.
June I4.
She said nothing to me about the anniver.
sary, and, though it has been in my thoughts