"Don't cry," she said, softly. "I am only going before, as papa did. I
think I saw him while I slept, and I am not afraid. It is not a dark
river, mama, but beautiful and bright, and nothing can happen, for God
stands there and smiles. Please don't cry, or shut the windows; let the
sunshine come in, and be glad that I will never suffer any more. Lift me
up, mama."

Mrs. Dering did so, and with her head pillowed on that dear breast,
Ernestine sank to sleep like a child, breathing softly; while the
shadows fell, and no one stirred. But the early moon rose slowly, and
lighted the room, and as she drew her last breath, with a fluttering
little sigh, it fell across her face, pure and sweet, and touched the
withered rose-bud, lying on the pillow.

CHAPTER XXIV.

TWO SECRETS.

Joy and sorrow, laughter and tears come and go and mingle as one in
memory of the past. Between _now_ and _then_, time weaves a veil, misty
with tears of our sorrow, and diamond dusted with the bright laughter of
our joy, and as we look through it, on the path that weaves our
footsteps, the sunshine and shadows, that have fallen thereon, mingle
and soften each other, so that neither the brilliant light of one nor
the saddening shade of the other can pain our eyes, that look back, in
wistful, happy memory.

In the fresh, pure air, that follows rain on a summer day, Kat was
leaning from the window, and watching the sun go slowly down behind the
hills; while slender spires of light shot up into the hazy atmosphere,
and pierced the flitting clouds. She was gazing idly, with eyes in
which many thoughts lay dreamily, and the slight smile that touched her
lips came, perhaps, from something in the letter that lay open in her
lap, or maybe from the distant view of a basket buggy, drawn by a white
pony, coming slowly down the road, as though the riders were in no
haste.

At any rate, she smiled; and it crept from the corners of her roguish
mouth up to her eyes, and made her face very attractive, especially as
she leaned it against the vines that crept in at the window, and looked
thoughtfully down at the open letter. It was one such as she received
very often now-a-days, as a very large pack, all of that year's date,
much worn, and tied with a blue ribbon, would testify. Most of them were
dashed boldly off on large office paper, with "Kathie dear," flourished
into one corner, and news of all kinds, inquiries and odds and ends,
filling several sheet