to-day, and I have no words strong
enough to express my admiration."

"There is no need of any. Tell me about yourself: what have you been
doing all this year?" he asked, watching with genuine satisfaction the
serene and sunny face before him, for discontent, anxiety, and sadness
were no longer visible there.

"I've been working and waiting," she began.

"And succeeding, if I may believe what I see and hear and read," he
said, with an expressive little wave of the book as he laid it down
before her.

"My diary! I didn't know I had lost it. Where did you find it?"

"By the brook where I stopped to rest. The moment I saw your name I
shut it up. Forgive me, but I can't ask pardon for reading a few pages
of that little gospel of patience, love, and self-denial."

She gave him a reproachful look, and hurried the telltale book out of
sight as she said, with a momentary shadow on her face,--

"It has been a hard task; but I think I have learned it, and am just
beginning to find that my dream _is_ 'a noonday light and truth,' to
me."

"Then you do not relinquish your hopes, and lay down your tools?" he
asked, with some eagerness.

"Never! I thought at first that I could not serve two masters, but
in trying to be faithful to one I find I am nearer and dearer to the
other. My cares and duties are growing lighter every day (or I have
learned to bear them better), and when my leisure does come I shall
know how to use it, for my head is full of ambitious plans, and I feel
that I can do something _now_."

All the old enthusiasm shone in her eyes, and a sense of power
betrayed itself in voice and gesture as she spoke.

"I believe it," he said heartily. "You have learned the secret, as
that proves."

Psyche looked at the childish image as he pointed to it, and into her
face there came a motherly expression that made it very sweet.

"That little sister was so dear to me I could not fail to make her
lovely, for I put my heart into my work. The year has gone, but I
don't regret it, though this is all I have done."

"You forget your three wishes; I think the year has granted them."

"What were they?"

"To possess beauty in yourself, the power of seeing it in all things,
and the art of reproducing it with truth."

She colored deeply under the glance which accompanied the threefold
compliment, and answered with grateful humility,--

"You are very kind to say so; I wish I could believe it." Then, as if
anxious to forg