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Various

"The Best Short Stories of 1921 and the Yearbook of the American Short Story"

When
he would have stooped to gather the unburned pages, her lovely flowing
body curved between his hands and the flames; and so transparent, so
ethereal she looked, that I saw--or imagined that I saw--the firelight
shine through her. "The only way, my dear, is the right way," she said
softly.
The next instant--I don't know to this day how or when it began--I was
aware that the apparition had drawn nearer, and that the dread and fear,
the evil purpose, were no longer a part of her. I saw her clearly for a
moment--saw her as I had never seen her before--young and gentle
and--yes, this is the only word for it--loving. It was just as if a
curse had turned into a blessing, for, while she stood there, I had a
curious sensation of being enfolded in a kind of spiritual glow and
comfort--only words are useless to describe the feeling because it
wasn't in the least like anything else I had ever known in my life. It
was light without heat, glow without light--and yet it was none of these
things. The nearest I can come to it is to call it a sense of
blessedness--of blessedness that made you at peace with everything you
had once hated.
Not until afterwards did I realize that it was the victory of good over
evil. Not until afterwards did I discover that Mrs. Vanderbridge had
triumphed over the past in the only way that she could triumph.


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