nd Dora followed him rather sadly. The
beautiful illumination had passed too quickly.

"We shall stand again in this glory, my child, nay, in a far more
beautiful one," said her father consolingly, "when we are all together
again, your mother and you and I, where there will be no more parting and
the glory will be everlasting."

As they climbed up the high staircase to say good night to Uncle and Aunt,
the latter awaited them on the landing, making all sorts of silent signs
of alarm and distress, but she did not utter a sound until she had them
safely within the sitting room. Then, having softly closed the door, she
broke forth complainingly,

"How can you make me so uneasy, dear brother? I have been dreadfully
anxious about you. I imagined all kinds of shocking accidents that might
have happened, and made you so late in returning home! How can you be so
heedless as to forget that it is not safe for you to stay out after
sunset. Now I am sure that you have taken cold. And what will happen, who
can tell? Something dreadful, I am certain."

"Calm yourself, I beg you, dear Ninette," said the Major soothingly, as
soon as he could get in a word. "The air is so mild, so very warm, that it
could not possibly harm anybody, and the evening was glorious, perfectly
wonderful. Let me enjoy these lovely summer evenings on earth as long as I
can; it will not be very long at the farthest. What is sure to come, can
be neither delayed nor hastened much by anything I may do."

These words, however, although they were spoken in the quietest possible
tone, called forth another torrent of reproach and lamentation.

"How can you allow yourself to speak in that way? How can you say such
dreadful things?" cried the excited woman over and over again. "It will
not happen. What will become of us all; what will become of--you know what
I mean," and she cast a meaning glance at Dora. "No, Karl, it would be
more than I could bear, and we never have more trouble sent to us than we
can bear; I do not know how I should live; I could not possibly endure
it."

"My dear Ninette" said her brother quietly, "Do not forget one thing,

"'Thou art not in command,
Thou canst not shape the end;
God holds us in his hand:
God knows the best to send.'"

"Oh, of course, I know all that well enough. I know that is all true,"
assented Aunt Ninette, "but when one cannot see the end nor the help, it
is enough to kill one with anxiety. And