or the end of all this passion and pain,
Wilmur is waiting--that is all.

The letter and poem finished, we talked long of our new friend, and the
strange experiences brought into our quiet lives, and Clara said:

"Oh! how long must all the good in the world of thought wait for the
hand of love to open the avenues of work for willing doers! Cannot
strong men weep; and must not angels sorrow to realize the darkness and
the errors where light should dawn, and in a morning of new life men and
women stand as brothers and sisters in the grand work of helping each
other to do all that lies on either hand! Fields whiten for the harvest,
but the reapers are not many. These experiences come to us as teachers,
and oh, Louis and Emily, let your hearts search to find these sorrowing
ones! May your hands never be withheld from the needed alms, and may you
work in quiet love and patience through the years! The mists will shroud
the valley, and ere long, my dear ones, I shall leave you, for I cannot
stay too long away from all that awaits me there. If I had more strength
I could stay longer--but strength is what we need to hold the wings of
our soul closely down, and when the physical chain grows weak, all that
is waiting comes nearer. Spiritual strength grows greater, and the
waiting soul plumes its wings for flight. It does not seem so far, and
Louis, Emily, when my visible presence goes from you, your prayers will
come to me. I shall hear, perhaps I shall answer you also, for I shall
be your guardian angel. Then--is it not beautiful to think of the long,
long years, and no death for evermore?"

She closed her eyes, and looked serenely happy, but I was weeping
bitterly, and Louis' eyes swam in tears, as he said:

"Little mother, wait still longer, we cannot let you go."

"Oh! Louis, my dear boy, it is not now, it may be just a few years yet,
but it is sure to come--and I love to talk with you of this change. It
is natural for us to pass into the next room. If I go I must say all the
things I need to first."

Aunt Hildy and mother entered, and we talked again of our new friend
Mary. When God touched me that night with his magic wand, I dreamed of
fairies, and saw wondrous changes at their hands, earth and heaven
strangely mingling.

CHAPTER XVII.

PRECIOUS THOUGHTS.

I like to drift with the days, and scan them one by one, but as I recall
all that I have written, I say to myself: "Emily must take some long
ste