ut she knew what he felt.

"Oh, daddy, dear, don't think anything about it," she said, giving him a
warm embrace as she looked up at him, smiling through her tears. "I'm
not unhappy. I have so many things to think of, and I have always you,
you dear old father. I love you better than anyone else on earth. I will
be your own little daughter always."

She pressed her arms about him more tightly, and there were tears in his
eyes as he stooped to kiss her brow.

Beth thought of all his tenderness that night as she lay in bed, and
then slept, with the rain beating on the roof overhead.

It was a bright sunshiny Sabbath morning when she awoke. She remembered
with pleasure how much she had liked Mr. Perth, the new minister, that
Sunday. She had heard him before she went away. He had seemed such an
energetic, wide-awake, inspiring man! Beth liked that stamp of people.
She meant to be a progressive girl. She meant to labor much and to have
much success.

She was quite early at church that morning, and interested herself by
looking at Mrs. Perth, whom she had never seen before. She was a fair,
slender, girlish creature--very youthful indeed for a married woman. She
had a great mass of light hair, drawn back plainly from a serenely fair
forehead. The fashion became her well, for, in fact, the most striking
thing about her face was its simplicity and purity. She was certainly
plain-looking, but Beth fancied her face looked like the white cup of a
lily. She had such beautiful blue eyes, too, and such a sweet smile.

"I think I shall love her. I believe we shall be great friends," thought
Beth, after she had had an introduction to Mrs. Perth; and they did
become fast friends.

Beth had seldom been at Sunday-school since she left home, but an
impulse seized her to go this afternoon. She was quite early, and she
sat down in a seat by herself to muse awhile. She gazed at the lilies
about the altar and the stained-glass windows above the organ. How long
it seemed to look back to that Sunday of two months ago! She shuddered
slightly, and tried to change her thoughts, but she could not help going
back to it. It seemed as though years had since passed. So it is always.
We go about our daily tasks, and the time passes swiftly or slowly,
according as our lives are active or monotonous. Then a crisis comes--an
upheaval--a turn in the current. It lasts but a moment, perhaps, but
when we look back, years seem to have intervened. Beth gave