one when she had seen Evan first, and he
harnessed Prince, and they came together over this very road. Perhaps
soon Evan would be riding there again, without her, as she was going
now without him. Never together again, never together again! and what
was life to either of them apart? Diana went into the cottage walking
as one in a dream.

The cottage was in nice order, as usual, though no woman's hand had
been about. Joe, rough as he was, could be what his friends called
"real handy;" and he had put everything in trim and taken all care for
his mother's comfort before he went out. The minister had told him
Diana would be there; so after he had done this he went to his work.
Mrs. Bartlett was lying on her bed in the inner room. Diana kissed her,
with a heart too full at the moment to speak.

"Did the minister bring you?" the old lady asked.

"Yes. Are you all alone?"

"The Lord never leaves his children alone, dear. They leave him
sometimes. Won't you open the winders, Diana. Joe forgot that, and I
want to see the sun."

Diana rolled up the thick paper shades which hung over the windows, and
put up the sashes. Summer air poured in, so full of warmth and
brightness and sounds of nature's activity, that it seemed to roll up a
tide of life to the very feet of the dying woman. She looked, and drew
a deep breath or two.

"That's good!" she said. "The Lord made the sunshine. Now sit down,
dear; I want to see you. Sit down there, where I _can_ see you."

"Does Joe leave you here by yourself?"

"He knew you was comin'. Joe's a good boy. But I don't want him nor
nobody hangin' round all the time, Diana. There ain't nothin' to do;
only he forgot the winders, and I want to look out and see all my
riches."

"Your riches, Mother Bartlett?"--And she was not going to live but a
few days more. Diana wondered if her senses were wandering. But the old
lady smiled; the wise, sweet smile that Diana knew of old.

"Whose be they, then?" she asked.

"You mean, all this pretty summer day?"

"Ain't it pretty? And ain't the sunshine clear gold? And ain't the sky
a kind of an elegant canopy? And it's all mine, and all it covers, and
he that made it too; and seein' what he makes, puts me in mind of how
rich he is and what more he kin do. How's the baby?"

For some little time the baby was talked of, in both present and future
relations.

"And you're very happy, Diana?" the old woman asked. "I hain't seen you
now for quite a spell-