face, which she knew she
would see no more.

'So soon, dear child?'

'I have given Christ the key, as you said, and now I am under orders.'

'Well, I knew it would come. It is only that we must travel by different
roads. We shall meet at the end of the journey.'

'But you never told me that my way to the kingdom lay through Sleepy
Hollow!'

'Surely not, dear child! It is not for me to do the work of the Holy
Spirit. I knew you would hear His voice speaking to you from out the
shadows by-and-by.'

Pauline sighed.

'I have so longed for culture, my lady, and now I must put it by.'

'I am going to quote again. "Blessed be drudgery, the secret of all
culture." Some one has said: "Latin and Greek, and music and art, and
travel, are the decorations of life, but industry and perseverance,
courage before difficulties, and cheer under straining burdens,
self-control and self-denial are the indispensables. It is our daily
task that mainly educates us, and the humblest woman may live
splendidly." And remember, dear child, a life like Christ's is the
grandest thing in the world. Angels may well envy us the opportunity of
living it, for God Himself has lived it in Christ and rejoices to live
it again in each of us. We should glory in the thought that our King
allows us to be the mirror in which the world may see Jesus. May the
Lord keep you as one of His "hidden ones," my darling, and make you to
realise that He who "holdeth the height of the hills," spreads the hush
of His presence over the valleys.'

Then she drew her close in a long, last farewell.

_Chapter VIII_

IDEALISING THE REAL

'If you cannot realise your Ideal, you can at least idealise your Real.'

As the train slackened speed, Pauline lifted her eyes from the book
which Richard Everidge had laid on the seat beside her, after giving her
that last strong handshake, to see her father standing in front of the
Sleepy Hollow Station. A great pity filled her heart--how worn and old
he looked!

They had all wanted to accompany her part of the way, and Belle had
pleaded to be allowed to go and help nurse, but she had said them nay.
She knew the accommodations of Hickory Farm, and it was easier to leave
them where she had met them first, at the entrance of what would always
be to her the city of delights.

Abraham Lincoln and the spring waggon! Had the whole beautiful summer
been one delicious dream? Could it be only a week since she had stood
entra