day has its close. The _Maid
of Astolat_ was ready to set sail again, and once more the time drew
near to say good-bye.

"Farewell, Win, my little angel sister," whispered Dick, kissing the
sweet face with dimmed, misty eyes. "God keep you for ever and ever,
and bring me safe home to you again." Then followed a long, lingering
embrace; and Winnie was left to wait and hope till the long months and
days would pass and her sailor boy return once more.

"Yes, I miss him sorely, Aunt Judith," she said one evening to Miss
Latimer about a fortnight after the ship had sailed; "but I have so
much to be thankful for, that I feel as it I dared not grumble. You
have no idea how greatly he is improved, and how much more highly he is
thought of now by every one in the house. I wish you had been able to
see him, Aunt Judith."

"So do I, Winnie; but I was too ill the day he called, and this is only
my second walk out of doors."

"Were you very unwell?" questioned Winnie, again scrutinizing her
friend's face anxiously. "Aunt Judith, I don't believe you are nearly
better. There are great hollows round your eyes, and your face looks
haggard and worn."

"Nonsense, dear," answered the kind voice, and Miss Latimer's smile was
very bright. "Remember I am an old woman, and pain leaves traces on an
aged face.--What about yourself, Winnie? is the darkness brightening
yet?"

"I think so, Aunt Judith; and Dick helped me so much. Perhaps the
beautiful life is within my reach after all."

"There's no 'perhaps' in the matter, dear," said Miss Latimer softly;
"but my little Winnie must be patient, for the grand, sweet song of
life has its beginning, and the opening chords may be tremulous and
low. Child," she continued passionately, "the grandest songs--the
songs that echo and re-echo through eternity's limitless bounds--are
wrung from hearts crushed and bleeding with anguish, and the infinite
peace and calm come only after long strife and pain. Darling, my
earnest prayer for you is that God would perfect in you his own image,
and that you may come forth from the furnace of affliction with
Christ's own brightness shining in your face."

That was the last talk Miss Latimer ever had with Winnie. She had been
far from well lately, and after reaching home that night complained of
feeling very tired.

"Go to bed, auntie," pleaded Nellie; "I am sure you are fit for no work
to-night;" and Aunt Debby seconded the words. But Miss Lati