They must be there for the study, and the Angel had risked crossing the swamp in search of him.

Or was there something in his room they needed?
The blood surged in his ears as the roar of the Limberlost in the wrath of a storm.
He looked again, and it had been a dream.

She was not there.

Had she been?
For his life, Freckles could not tell whether he really had seen the Angel, or whether his strained senses had played him the most cruel trick of all.

Or was it not the kindest?
Now he could go with the vision of her lovely face fresh with him.
"Thank You for that, oh God!" whispered Freckles.