n the ivy of a tower, or in
the thick bushes of a shrubbery. Amroth told me one day that I must
prepare for a great change soon, and I found myself wondering what it
would be like, half excited about it, and half afraid, unwilling as I
was to lose the sweet rest, and the dear companionship of a friend who
seemed like the crown and sum of all hopes of friendship. Amroth became
utterly dear to me, and it was a joy beyond all joys to feel his happy
and smiling nature bent upon me, hour by hour, in sympathy and
understanding and love. He said to me laughingly once that I had much of
earth about me yet, and that I must soon learn not to bend my thoughts
so exclusively one way and on one friend.

"Yes," I said, "I am not fit for heaven yet! I believe I am jealous; I
cannot bear to think that you will leave me, or that any other soul
deserves your attention."

"Oh," he said lightly, "this is my business and delight now--but you
will soon have to do for others what I am doing for you. You like this
easy life at present, but you can hardly imagine how interesting it is
to have some one given you for your own, as you were given to me. It is
the delight of motherhood and fatherhood in one; and when I was allowed
to take you away out of the room where you lay--I admit it was not a
pleasant scene--I felt just like a child who is given a kitten for its
very own."

"Well," I said, "I have been a very satisfactory pet--I have done little
else but purr." I felt his eyes upon me in a wonderful nearness of love;
and then I looked up and I saw that we were not alone.

It was then that I first perceived that there could be grief in heaven.
I say "first perceived," but I had known it all along. But by Amroth's
gentle power that had been for a time kept away from me, that I might
rest and rejoice.

The form before me was that of a very young and beautiful woman--so
beautiful that for a moment all my thought seemed to be concentrated
upon her. But I saw, too, that all was not well with her. She was not at
peace with herself, or her surroundings. In her great wide eyes there
was a look of pain, and of rebellious pain. She was attired in a robe
that was a blaze of colour; and when I wondered at this, for it was
unlike the clear hues, pearly grey and gold, and soft roseate light that
had hitherto encompassed me, the voice of Amroth answered my unuttered
question, and said, "It is the image of her thought." Her slim white
hands moved aimless