apple-blossoms, and Mrs. Perth came down the walk to meet them,
looking so fair and smiling, and why--she had something white in her
arms! Beth bounded forward to meet her.

"Why, May, where did you--whose baby?" asked Beth, breathless and
smiling.

"Who does she look like?"

The likeness to May Perth on the little one-month-old face was
unmistakable.

"You naughty puss, why didn't you tell me when you wrote?"

"Been keeping it to surprise you," said Mr. Perth. "Handsome baby, isn't
it? Just like her mother!"

"What are you going to call her?"

"Beth." And May kissed her fondly as she led her in.

What a pleasant week that was! Life may be somewhat desert-like, but
there is many a sweet little oasis where we can rest in the shade by the
rippling water, with the flowers and the birds about us.

One afternoon Beth went out for a stroll by herself down toward the
lake, and past the old Mayfair home. The family were still in Europe,
and the place, she heard, was to be sold. The afternoon sunshine was
beating on the closed shutters, the grass was knee-deep on the lawn and
terraces, and the weeds grew tall in the flower-beds. Deserted and
silent! Silent as that past she had buried in her soul. Silent as those
first throbs of her child-heart that she had once fancied meant love.

That evening she and May sat by the window watching the sunset cast its
glories over the lake, a great sheet of flame, softened by a wrapping of
thin purplish cloud, like some lives, struggling, fiery, triumphant,
but half hidden by this hazy veil of mortality.

"Are you going to write another story, Beth?"

"Yes, I thought one out last fall. I shall write it as soon as I am
rested."

"What is it--a love story?"

"Yes, it's natural to me to write of love; and yet--I have never been
seriously in love."

May laughed softly.

"Do you know, I am beginning to long to love truly. I want to taste the
deep of life, even if it brings me pain."

It was a momentary restlessness, and she recalled these words before
long.

Mr. Perth joined them just then. He was going away for a week's holiday
on the following day.

"I suppose you have a supply for Sunday," said Mrs. Perth.

"Yes, I have. I think he'll be a very good one. He's a volunteer
missionary."

"Where is he going?" asked Beth.

"I don't know."

"I should like to meet him," and Beth paused before she continued, in a
quiet tone, "I am going to be a missionary myself."

"Beth