“Forgive me, Winifred,” he said contritely, “it is cruel of me to take her away.”

“No, it isn’t,” sobbed Winifred.  “It is just—­what I—­wished.  Only—­I shall—­miss her so!”

“Of course,” he replied pitifully.

The storm subsided, and Winifred looked at her brother apologetically.

“I am ashamed,” she said, still with long catches in her breath.  “I couldn’t help it.  I am not sorry—­she is going—­I am very glad!”

“You are very brave,” he said.

“But it’s true,” she persisted.  “It’s all over now, Hubert.  I shall not cry like that again.  Let us talk about it.”

They talked about it till the small hours came.  Winifred’s face cleared of every trace of sorrow, and she loved to think of the cheer and help that Hubert would have in the far-off land.  No braver heart of all they knew could have been found to share his pilgrimage; and they imagined how Adele’s keen sense of humor might turn many a sorry happening into mirth.  Also she had served an apprenticeship here among the poor and outcast whom she had come to love and who loved her well.

“Winifred,” said Hubert suddenly in the midst of their conversation, “Gerald Bond is to preach for Dr. Schoolman next Sunday.”

For some reason best known to himself he watched her countenance narrowly as he made the announcement.  But her fair face showed only sweet unconsciousness.

“Really?” she said.  “I am very glad.”

“We must have him with us if we can.  I long to talk with him about these new things.”

“Certainly.  You must invite him, Hubert.”

“Winnie,” said her brother, “I seem to have a spirit of prophesy upon me to-night.  Almost I can see the path before us with some of its lights and shadows.  Oh, there will be compensations for all sorrows!”

“I know it,” she said earnestly.

“You will say it is my own great joy that God has given that makes me prophesy.  Perhaps it is.  But I see this, Winnie; He will never be in our debt when we yield our all to Him.  Sweet surprises, unlooked for joys, will be thrown in all the way.  Goodness and mercy shall follow us all our days!”

“I believe it, Hubert, and then—­we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever!”

He drew her to the low open window, and they stepped together into the balcony.  The lights of the city were still burning, but in the east a flickering star was proclaiming the not distant advent of a greater light.

“Do you see the parable in lights, Winnie?  See how brightly the street is lighted.  No one need lose his way or bemoan the darkness, though it is night.  But yonder is a prophet of a fuller light.  He is saying, ‘The sun will come.’  Here is my parable:  It is night, surely, while our Lord is still away.  But He gives us light.  No way will ever be cheerless for you and me, little sister.  I know He will give me as I go numberless pleasures, fresh interests, and boundless consolation in Himself for all that is left behind.  And for you, Winifred, I almost see some rare, sweet blessings over your dear head, just ready to fall upon it.”