e label told her it
was from Violet, but even without that she would have recognized it as her
work; and that it was so made it all the more precious to the widowed
mother.

She was gazing intently upon it, her lips quivering, the big tears
dropping fast down her cheeks, as Violet, with Capt. Raymond's letter in
her hand, opened the door, came softly in, and glided noiselessly to her
side.

"Dearest mamma," she murmured, stealing an arm about her mother's waist,
"does it please you?"

"Nothing could be more like him! My darling, thank you a thousand times!"

"I painted almost entirely from memory, mamma, and it was emphatically a
labor of love--love to you and to him. Oh, how sadly sweet it was to see
the dear face growing day by day under my hand!"

"Has your grandpa seen it?"

"Yes, mamma, he used to come in sometimes and watch me at my work. He
thinks as you do of the likeness. Ah, I hear his step!" and she hastened
to open the door for him.

"I thought I should find you here," he said, kissing her on both cheeks,
then drawing her near the light and gazing with keen, loving scrutiny into
the blushing face.

"Elsie daughter," turning to her--"Ah!" as he perceived her emotion and
took note of the miniature in her hand, "is it not a speaking likeness?"

"Yes, papa," she said in a trembling voice, going to him to lay her head
on his breast while he clasped her in his arms, "but it has roused such an
intense longing in my heart!

"'Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!"

"Dearest child!" he said tenderly, "the separation is only for time, and a
long eternity of reunion will follow. 'Our light affliction, which is but
for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of
glory.'"

"'But for a moment!'" she repeated. "Yes, it will seem like that when it
is past, though now the road looks so long and lonely."

"Ah, dearest!" he said, softly smoothing her hair, "remember that nearer,
dearer Friend whose promise is, 'I will never leave thee, nor forsake
thee.'"

Presently she lifted her head, wiped away her tears, and as her father
released her from his arms, turned to her daughter with a tenderly
interested and inquiring look.

"What is it, my darling?" she asked, glancing at the letter in the young
girl's hand.

Violet gave it to her, saying, with downcast eyes and blushing cheeks, "I
found it on my dressing-table, mamma. It is from him