soon,
be removed from her luxuries, or they from her. Each hour the fair girl's
step grew heavier, till at last she was too weak to walk, or even rise
from her bed.

"All this comes of having that sad woman here," exclaimed the weeping
mother as she bent over her daughter. "I'll have her sent from the
house this day." And she rang for a servant to send Sorrow away.

After delivering her message to her maid, she felt somewhat relieved.

The servant went in search of Sorrow, but could not find her either in
the house, garden, on the lawn, or among the dark pines where she often
walked.

Whither had she fled?

All the servants of the house were summoned to the search; but Sorrow
was not to be found, and they reported to the mistress their failure
to find her.

"No matter," she replied, "so long as she is no longer among us. Go
to your labors now, keep the house very quiet, and be sure, before dark,
to lock all the doors, that she may not enter unperceived."

They need not have bolted nor barred her out; for her work was done,
and she had no cause to return.

She was sent to the house of wealth to carry the blight of death. Her
mission was over, and she was on her way, seeking Joy.

The young girl faded slowly and died.

The mother mourned without hope, and was soon laid beside her daughter.
The home passed into the hands of those who felt that none must live for
themselves alone; that sorrows must be borne without murmur; and joys
appreciated so well that the angel of sorrow may not have to bear some
treasure away to uplift the heart and give the vision a higher range.

Sorrow met Joy on the road that night. There was no moon, even
the stars were dim; but for the shining face of her sister, she would
have passed her. They joined hands, and walked together till morning
broke. They came in sight of a low cottage just as the day dawned.

"Oh, dear!" said Sorrow, as they approached the familiar spot, "how
often have I been there to carry woe! Do you go now, Joy, and give
them gladness!"

"If it is the master's hour I will most gladly," said Joy, looking
tenderly on the weary face of her sister, who sat by the roadside to rest
awhile while she lifted her heart to heaven, asking that she might no
more carry woe to that humble home; and her prayer was answered.

"I feel to go there," said Joy, as Sorrow wiped her tears away. "Wait
here till I return;" and she ran merrily on.

She entered the humble home with g