is _any change_."

_Any change!_ What change? That from life to death--from earth to
heaven! And would it take place at once? Could they tell the instant
when Elspie's soul departed "to be beyond the sun"?

Such and so strange were the thoughts that floated through the mind
of this child of twelve years old. And from these precocious yearnings
after the infinite, Olive's fancy turned to earthly, childish things.
She pictured with curious minuteness how she would feel when she awoke
next morning, and found that Elspie was dead;--how there would be a
funeral; how strange the house would seem afterward; even what would be
done with the black bonnet and shawl which, two days since, Elspie had
hung up against the nursery-door never to put on again.

And then a long silent agony of weeping came. Her mother, thinking she
slept, sat quietly by; but in any case Olive would never have thought
of going to her for consolation. Young as she was, Olive knew that her
sorrow must be borne alone, for none could understand it. Until we feel
that we are alone on earth, how rarely do we feel that we are _not_
alone in heaven! For the second time this day the child thought of God.
Not merely as of Him to whom she offered her daily prayers, and those
repeated after the clergyman in church on Sunday, but as One to whom,
saying "Our Father," she could ask for anything she desired.

And she did so, lying on the sofa, not even turning to kneel down, using
her own simple words. She prayed that God would comfort her when Elspie
died, and teach her not to grieve, but to be a good, patient child,
so that she might one day go to her dear nurse in heaven, and never be
parted from her any more.

She heard the maid come in and whisper to her mamma. Then she knew that
all was over--that Elspie was dead. But so deep was the peace which had
fallen on her heart that the news gave no pang--caused no tears.

"Olive, dearest," said Mrs. Rothesay, herself subdued into weeping.

"I know, mamma," was the answer. "Now I have no one to love me but you."

The feeling was strange, perhaps even wrong; but as Mrs. Rothesay
clasped her child, it was not without a thrill of pleasure that Olive
was all her own now.

"Where shall Miss Rothesay sleep to-night?" was the whispered question
of the maid. Olive burst into tears.

"She shall sleep with me. Darling, do not cry for your poor nurse, will
not mamma do instead?"

And looking up, Olive saw, as though she ha