The Irish standard., 1892-02-13

i
never one sister till you came to me. :"
So Olive spent hour after hour in the
small bedroom under the thatch, and
sunbeams and wandering breezes made
their way through the open lattice.
There was a thick wreath of ivy and
roses round the window; the swallows
had not yet taken their departure. and
bird-notes and whispers of many leaves
came to her like familiar voices. And
Lucy, too. lay listening to the rnusic of
the dy ing summer with a great peace
in her heart
They talked to each other in these last
hours more freely than they had ever
spoken before All the shadows of the
past had been swept away from Lucy's
soul. She looked back On the path that
she had trodden with such weary feet,
and saw it illumined with a divine
light. It was just the same path that
she had known always: there was the
place where she had stumbled over the
sharp stones, and risen bruised and
bleeding; there was the spot where one
had turned his face from hers, and left
her to toll onward al! alone. Nothing
was changed, not a single way-mark
was gone. But the eyes that looked
back on the past had gained a new and
clearer sight: they could see where
good had triumphed and evil had been
stricken down; and they could discern
the footprints of angels where the way
had been darkest and saddest. From
beginning to end it was a way that had
been watched over and guarded by love.
CHAPTER Nv.
"REMEMBER ME WHEN AM GONE AWAY
Lucy had little to regret in the WORLD
that she was leaving, for Heaven had
opened to her. She did not tell Olive
what kind Of Heaven it was that had
been revealed to her spiritual gaze;
''the kingdom of God was within her,
and these last days of her earthly pill
grimage were unfolded in an atmos.
phere of sweetness and light One
evening, when she had been lying
silently, with eyes closed, Olive had
gone to a seat by the open window, and
was looking out upon the sun-touched
hills. She thought that Lucy was
asleep, and started at the sound of ller
friends faint voice.
''There is something that want to
say, DEAR" said Lucy, tender]y. "Do
you know that one of the sweetest feel
ings in life is the sense OF being able tc
forgive? No, you do not know it; as
yet you have suffered no great wrong.
But if ever there comes ~ time when
you are greatly injuretiif ever you are
wounded deeply by q hand you have
loved--then you may remember these
words Of mine: Forgive, if you would
find peace. Forgive, if you would have
your wounds healed and feel the soft
touch of Christ's ginger on your sore
heart"
Olive was silent; but she drew near
and took Lucy's hand. The ieat
whispers filled up the pause, the room
was full of the rich scent Of jessarnine,
a flower that Lucy loved; and long af~
forwards it's perfume brought back to
Olive memory of her friends last
words and looks. Some sprays were
scattered over the coverlet; some of the
white, star-like blossoms had drifted
down on the floor. Lucy had never
told why this flower was SO dear to
her, but Olives quick wonanly instinct
OWNED that it was one of the links that
bound her to the past. Such links are
often flower-links, fragile and sweet,
yet strong as e. chain Of steel, and last
ing unbroken through all the chances
and changes Of time.
"You nust never think sorrowfully
of me, Olive" Lucy went on. 81 have
read somewhere of one who CLEANED in
haste and snatched all the richest
grain Here, in this quiet village,
have gathered all the blessings that !
missed when T lived in the world. In
these last days I have reaped all, and l,
too, shall be gathered into the garner.
Do you not see that mine is Il happy
fate? have done nothing to deserve
these royal compositions, these outpour-
ings of Fathers loving kindness, and
yet they are mine"
Thus Lucy talked, and Olive listened;
and in the growing amber light the
woods and meadows stretched softly
away, showing dimly through q glo-
rious mist that slowly faded into dusk.
They heard the last goodnight OF the
birds and felt the first cool sigh of
night before the lattice was closed. 1t
was then that Lucy said a silent fare
we'll to earthly things. The quiet night
passed away in peace; the sun rose and
the village awolxe to it's daily labor, but
the jessamine blossoms lay upon a
pulseless heart, and ON the still face
there was an ideal beauty, faint smile
of un,ltterable peace. T,
Long afterwards Olive was glad that
she had watched by the side of her dead
friend: glad that she had woven chap
let of feathery ferns and jessamine for
Lucy's last resting-place. There are
times when to each one of us comes the
thought of those who have taught us
by their words and deeds; and we find
their traces in other lives, and light
upon their footprints in strange paths
which we never expected to tread.
They laid Lucy in the breezy old
churchyard under the high hill, among
the graves which Olive had known from
childhood; but it was not here, in this
quiet nook, that the clear echoes of
T,ncv's voice would come to her from