In all her life, Ellen never forgot that sleigh-ride.

It was a very cold day, and the virgin snow did not melt at all; the wind blew a soft, steady pressure from the west, and its wings were evident from the glistening crystals which were lifted and borne along.

The trees held their shining boughs against the blue of the sky, and burned and blazed here and there as with lamps of diamonds.

The child looked at them, and they lit her soul.

Her little face, between the swan's-down puffs of her hood, deepened in color like a rose; her blue eyes shone; she laughed and dimpled silently; she was in too much bliss to speak.