seen this summer," said Christie, with
moist eyes.

They were all silent a little while.

"We were just speaking about you when you came in," said she to Miss
Gertrude.

"Were you? Well, I hope you dealt gently with my faults?" she said,
blushing a little as she noticed the glance which passed between the
sisters.

"We had not got to your faults," said Christie.

"Well, you must be merciful when you do. See, Christie, I have got
something else for you," she added, as she drew out a little book bound
in blue and gold. "I thought of you when I read this. There is a good
deal in the book you would not care about, but you will like this." And
she read:

"Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward unto souls afar Along
the Psalmist's music deep, Now, tell me if that any is, For gift or
grace, surpassing this--? He giveth His beloved sleep."

And so on to the end. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yes," said Christie. But her eyes said much more than that.

"It reminded me of the time I found you sleeping among all the noises
that were going on in the ward. There was talking and groaning and
moving about, and you were quite unconscious of it all.

"`God makes a silence through them all,'"

she repeated:

"`And never doleful dream again
Shall break his blessed slumbers, when
He giveth His beloved sleep.'"

There was a silence of several minutes, and then Christie said:

"Miss Gertrude, when you came in I was telling Effie that I thought you
had changed since I first knew you."

"And were you telling her that there was much need of a change?" said
Miss Gertrude, with a playfulness assumed to hide the quick rush of
feeling which the words called forth.

"Do you mind how we used to speak of the great change that all must meet
before we can be happy or safe? You don't think about these things as
you used to do. Miss Gertrude, has this change come to you?"

"I don't know, Christie. Sometimes I almost hope it has," said she.
But she could not restrain the tears. Effie saw them; Christie did not.
Her eyes were closed, and her hands were clasped as if in prayer.

"I was sure it would come," she said, softly. "I am very glad."

She did not speak again during Miss Gertrude's stay, and I need not
repeat all that passed between the young lady and Effie. There were
some words spoken that neither will forget till their dying day.

Before she went away, Gertrude came and kissed Christie; an