sang Huldah, softly. The flame died down, and left the room very
dim, but still the three sat on, silent, thoughtful. Miss Rose sat
between them, holding a hand of each.

"I expect 'twas Him as led me back to Huldah," said the weak voice,
presently.

"Yes, dear. He was bringing you together, that all might be made
happy between you."

"I am very glad He did. 'Twas more'n I deserved--after the way I'd
treated one of His."

Huldah threw herself across the bed, her arms thrown round the dying
woman. "Aunt Emma--Aunt Emma, don't! That's all forgotten.
I deserved what I got. It's all over now; don't let's remember it
any more!"

"Will you tell--Him you've forgiven me?"

"Yes, oh yes; but He knows, there's no need to tell Him. He knows we
love each other now,--oh, Aunt Emma, if you can only get well, how
happy we shall be!"

Miss Rose got up and stirred the fire to a blaze again. Her heart
was glad, yet sad. Glad that this poor soul was coming to her
Father, but at the same time sad, for she knew how little hope there
was of Huldah's wish coming to pass. It was sweet, though, to the
dying woman to hear the wish from the child she had ill-treated and
neglected so long, and she clasped her to her in a paroxysm of love.

For a moment they lay thus, then Miss Rose put a handful of wood on
the fire, and made the blaze grow bright and brisk.

"I am not going to talk any more now," she said, cheerily, "or let
you talk, Emma, or I shall have a scolding from the doctor, but I am
going to ask you and Huldah to give me a cup of tea, here in the
firelight. Then, after that, I am going to tell you a little piece
of news."

CHAPTER XII.

HAPPY HOURS.

The bed was wheeled up to the fireplace, the tea table and two chairs
were grouped about the hearth, and there they had their last meal
together in happy peacefulness.

A sense of quiet rested on them all, a shade of awe, of feelings so
deep that ordinary chatter would have seemed out of place. Emma
Smith's thoughts were still lingering about that figure standing
outside the door, "Knocking, knocking." She must have seen a picture
once of that figure with the patient, tender eyes, knocking at a
fast-closed door, but she had never troubled to ask who it was.
Now it all seemed close, He was so real. It was ordinary, everyday
life that seemed unreal now, that began to seem to her so far away.

Huldah was drawing bright pictures in her mind of days when