aited, as it were, for
the marriage, and could stay no longer.

"... There are two heavens...
Both made of love,--one, inconceivable
Ev'n by the other, so divine it is;
The other, far on this side of the stars,
By men called home."

And these two heavens met, over at Boyntons', during these cold, white,
glistening December days.

Lois Boynton found hers first. After a windy moonlit night a morning
dawned in which a hush seemed to be on the earth. The cattle huddled
together in the farmyards and the fowls shrank into their feathers. The
sky was gray, and suddenly the first white heralds came floating down
like scouts seeking for paths and camping-places.

Waitstill turned Mrs. Boynton's bed so that she could look out of
the window. Slope after slope, dazzling in white crust, rose one upon
another and vanished as they slipped away into the dark green of the
pine forests. Then,

"... there fell from out the skies
A feathery whiteness over all the land;
A strange, soft, spotless something, pure as light."

It could not be called a storm, for there had been no wind since
sunrise, no whirling fury, no drifting; only a still, steady, solemn
fall of crystal flakes, hour after hour, hour after hour.

Mrs. Boynton's Book of books was open on the bed and her finger marked a
passage in her favorite Bible-poet.

"Here it is, daughter," she whispered. "I have found it, in the same
chapter where the morning stars sing together and the sons of God shout
for joy. The Lord speaks to Job out of the whirlwind and says: 'HAST
THOU ENTERED INTO THE TREASURES OF THE SNOW? OR HAST THOU SEEN THE
TREASURES OF THE HAIL?' Sit near me, Waitstill, and look out on the
hills. 'HAST THOU ENTERED INTO THE TREASURES OF THE SNOW?' No, not yet,
but please God, I shall, and into many other treasures, soon"; and she
closed her eyes.

All day long the air-ways were filled with the glittering army of the
snowflakes; all day long the snow grew deeper and deeper on the ground;
and on the breath of some white-winged wonder that passed Lois Boynton's
window her white soul forsook its "earth-lot" and took flight at last.

They watched beside her, but never knew the moment of her going; it was
just a silent flitting, a ceasing to be, without a tremor, or a flutter
that could be seen by mortal eye. Her face was so like an angel's in its
shining serenity that the few who loved her best could not look upon her
with anything but r