She went back to the parlor and watched him—­under the apple trees, white with blossom, through the gate, past the old church, around the corner—­he was gone!  The clock ticked away in the long, silent parlor; the sunshine slept on the grass outside; the butterflies were flitting from flower to flower, and laughing voices passed in the street, but her heart was strangely still.  A numb, voiceless pain!  What did it mean?  Had Arthur changed?  Once he had loved her.  “God have pity!” her white lips murmured.  And yet that look, that touch last night—­what did it mean?  What folly after all!  A touch, a smile, and she had woven her fond hopes together.  Foolish woman-heart, building her palace on the sands for next day’s tide to sweep away!  Yet how happy she had been last night!  A thrill, a throb, a dream of bliss; crushed now, all but the memory!  The years might bury it all in silence, but she could never, never forget.  She had laid her plans for life, sweet, unselfish plans for uplifting human lives.  Strange lands, strange scenes, strange faces would surround her.  She would toil and smile on others, “but oh, Arthur, Arthur—­”

All through the long hours of that night she lay watching; she could not sleep.  Arthur was still near, the same hills surrounding them both.  The stars were shining and the hoarse whistle of the steamers rent the night.  Perhaps they would never be so near again.  Would they ever meet, she wondered.  Perhaps not!  Another year, and he would be gone far across the seas, and then, “Good-bye, Arthur!  Good-bye!  God be with you!”

CHAPTER XII.

FAREWELL.

Beth’s summer at Briarsfield parsonage passed quietly and sweetly.  She had seemed a little sad at first, and May, with her woman’s instinct, read more of her story than she thought, but she said nothing, though she doubled her little loving attentions.  The love of woman for woman is passing sweet.

But let us look at Beth as she sits in the shadow of the trees in the parsonage garden.  It was late in August, and Beth was waiting for May to come out.  Do you remember the first time we saw her in the shadow of the trees on the lawn at home?  It is only a little over two years ago, but yet how much she has changed!  You would hardly recognize the immature girl in that gentle, sweet-faced lady in her dark mourning dress.  The old gloom had drifted from her brow, and in its place was sunlight, not the sunlight of one who had never known suffering, but the gentler, sweeter light of one who had triumphed over it.  It was a face that would have attracted you, that would have attracted everyone, in fact, from the black-gowned college professor to the small urchin shouting in the street.  To the rejoicing it said, “Let me laugh with you, for life is sweet;” to the sorrowing, “I understand, I have suffered, too.  I know what you feel.”  Just then her sweet eyes were raised to heaven in holy thought, “Dear heavenly Father, thou knowest everything—­how I loved him.  Thy will be done.  Oh, Jesus, my tender One, thou art so sweet!  Thou dost understand my woman’s heart and satisfy even its sweet longings.  Resting in Thy sweet presence what matter life’s sorrows!”