When, finally, Abby and Floretta had run back, and spied her there, they had stared half frightened.  “You ain’t sick, are you, Ellen?” asked Abby, anxiously.

“What are you sitting there for?” asked Floretta.

Ellen had replied that she was not sick, and had risen and run on, looking for flowers, but the flowers for her bloomed always against a background of the past, and nodded with forward flings of fragrance into the future; for the other children, who were wholly of their own day and generation, they bloomed in the simple light of their own desire of possession.  They picked only flowers, but Ellen picked thoughts, and they kept casting bewildered side-glances at her, for the look which had come into her eyes as she sat beneath the pine-tree lingered.

It was as if a rose had a second of self-consciousness between the bud and the blossom; a bird between its mother’s brooding and the song.  She had caught sight of the innermost processes of things, of her wheels of life.

Ellen waked up on that June morning, and the old sensation of a pause before advance was upon her, and the strange solemnity which was almost a terror, from the feeble clutching of her mind at the comprehension of infinity.  She looked at the morning sunlight coming between the white slants of her curtains, an airy flutter of her new dress from the closet, her valedictory, tied with a white satin ribbon, on the stand, and she saw quite plainly all which had led up to this, and to her, Ellen Brewster; and she saw also the inevitableness of its passing, the precious valedictory being laid away and buried beneath a pile of future ones; she saw the crowd of future valedictorians advancing like a flock of white doves in their white gowns, when hers was worn out, and its beauty gone, pressing forward, dimming her to her own vision.  She saw how she would come to look calmly and coldly upon all that filled her with such joy and excitement to-day; how the savor of the moment would pass from her tongue, and she said to herself that she would always remember this moment.

Then suddenly—­since she had in herself an impetus of motion which nothing, not even reflection, could long check—­she saw quite plainly a light beyond, after all this should have passed, and the leaping power of her spirit to gain it.  And then, since she was healthy, and given only at wide intervals to these Eastern lapses of consciousness from the present, she was back in her day, and alive to all its importance as a part of time.

She felt the bounding elation of tossing on the crest of her wave of success, and the full rainbow glory of it dazzled her eyes.  She was first in her class, she was valedictorian, she had a beautiful dress, she was young, she was first.  It is a poor spirit, and one incapable of courage in defeat, who feels not triumph in victory.  Ellen was triumphant and confident.  She had faith in herself and the love and approbation of everybody.