For a long time after they had gone away together, Tillie sat with her face bowed upon her book, happiness surging through her with every great throb of her heart.

At last she rose, picked up the lamp and carried it into the kitchen to the little mirror before which the family combed their hair.  Holding the lamp high, she surveyed her features.  As long as her arm would bear the weight of the uplifted lamp, she gazed at her reflected image.

When presently with trembling arm she set it on the dresser, Tillie, like Mother Eve of old, had tasted of the Tree of Knowledge.  Tillie knew that she was very fair.

That evening marked another crisis in the girl’s inner life.  Far into the night she lay with her eyes wide open, staring into the darkness, seeing there strange new visions of her own soul, gazing into its hitherto unsounded depths and seeing there the heaven or the hell—­she scarcely knew which—­that possessed all her being.

“Blasphemous to close your nature to the pleasures God has created for you!” His words burned themselves into her brain.  Was it to an abyss of degradation that her nature was bearing her in a swift and fatal tide—­or to a holy height of blessedness?  Alternately her fired imagination and awakened passion exalted her adoration of him into an almost religious joy, making her yearn to give herself to him, soul and body, as to a god; then plunged her into an agony of remorse and terror at her own idolatry and lawlessness.

A new universe was opened up to her, and all of life appeared changed.  All the poetry and the stories which she had ever read held new and wonderful meanings.  The beauty in Nature, which, even as a child, she had felt in a way she knew those about her could never have understood, now spoke to her in a language of infinite significance.  The mystery, the wonder, the power of love were revealed to her, and her soul was athirst to drink deep at this magic fountain of living water.

“You look like a Madonna!” Oh, surely, thought Tillie, in the long hours of that wakeful night, this bliss which filled her heart was a temptation of the Evil One, who did not scruple to use even such as the teacher for an instrument to work her undoing!  Was not his satanic hand clearly shown in these vain and wicked thoughts which crowded upon her—­thoughts of how fair she would look in a red gown like Amanda’s, or in a blue hat like Rebecca’s, instead of in her white cap and black hood?  She crushed her face in her pillow in an agony of remorse for her own faithlessness, as she felt how hideous was that black Mennonite hood and all the plain garb which hitherto had stood to her for the peace, the comfort, the happiness, of her life!  With all her mind, she tried to force back such wayward, sinful thoughts, but the more she wrestled with them, the more persistently did they obtrude themselves.