It was a world that was as pure as a pearl, and more fantastic than an Arabian tale.

She knew that when she died she could take nothing out of life with her to heaven.

But with this other world it was different, and all that she had or dreamed of that was fair she carried through its portals.

This house was there.

Long closed, walled in, guarded by tall trees, seen at far intervals and from a distance, as through a glass darkly, it had become to her an enchanted spot, about which played her quick fancy, but where her feet might never stray.
But now the spell which had held the place in slumber was snapped, and her feet was set in its pleasant paths.