“Because I have always thought that some time it would be well for you to hear it; but if you do not wish to hear it, I will go no farther.”

Elise looked at Benigna—­not trust her!  “Please go on,” she said.

“I knew the poor child very well.  She had grown up in an unhappy home, and had never known what it was to have comfort and peace in the house, or even plenty to eat and to wear.  She was expected to go out and earn her living as soon as she had learned the use of her hands and feet.  Poor child! she felt her fortune was a hard one, but God always cared for her.  In one way and another she in time picked up enough knowledge of music to teach beginners.  The first real friend she had was the friend who became so dear to her that—­I need not try to find words to tell you how dear he was.

“She was soon skilled enough to be able to take more intelligent and advanced pupils, and in the church-music she had the leading parts.  By and by the music was put into her hands for festivals and the great days, Christmas and Easter, as it has been put into mine here in Spenersberg.  One day he said to her, ’It seems to us the best thing in life to be near each other.  Would it might be God’s will that we should never part!’ She responded to that prayer from the depths of her heart, and a great gulf seemed to open before her, for she thought what would her life be worth if they were destined to part?  Then he said, ‘Let us inquire the will of our Lord;’ and she said, ’Let it be so;’ and they had faith that would enable them to abide by the decision.  The lot pronounced against them.  I do not believe that it had entered the heart of either of them to understand how necessary they had become to each other, and when they saw that all was over it was a sad awaking.  For a little while it was with both as if they had madly thrown a birthright away; for, though they had faith, they were not yet perfect in it.  Not soon did either see that this life had a blessing for them every day—­new every morning, fresh every evening—­and that from everlasting to everlasting are the mercies of God.  But at last he said, ‘I am afraid, my darling’” (Elise started at this word of endearment.  It was like a revelation to think that there had been lovers in the world before her time), “’it will go harder with me than with you.  I cannot stay here and go on with my work.  I must go among new people, and begin again.’  And so he went away, and at last, when by the grace of God they met again—­surely, surely by no seeking of their own—­they were no less true friends because they had for their lifetime been led into separate paths.  Their faith saved them.”

Low though the voice was in which these last words were spoken, there was a strength and inspiration in them which Elise felt.  She looked at Sister Benigna with steady, wondering eyes.  Such a story from her lips, and told so, and told now!  And her countenance! what divine beauty glowed in it!  The moment had a vision that could never be forgotten.