Jane’s hospital was soon completed, and I could no longer resist the sincere pleadings for her to be allowed to live in the quarters once again.  “My people are calling, and, though I am a frail and feeble leader, I must give all my time to them and help them to find the way back home and sell their souls for the highest price.”

Without protest I let her go.  I had no word of criticism for Jane.  Every soul is born for a purpose—­some to teach, others to preach, and all to serve.  Miss “Jaygray” more than justified her calling and her kind.  Her simple faith had made many whole.

* * * * *

Once again the Spirit of Spring held the old garden in a radiance of color.  Once again the bird from the spirit land called to its mate and heard the soft thrill of the answer.  The singing breeze swayed the cloud of cherry bloom, sending showers of petals to earth, covering the grim old stone image, making giant pink mushrooms of the low lanterns.

How lonely a thing would have been the Spirit of Spring had it not walked hand in hand with the Spirit of Love!

In the white moonlight sifting through the pines I saw Page and Zura in my garden on their last night in old Japan—­destinies, begun afar, fulfilled beneath the shadows of the smiling gods.

“But think what love will do to them both,” had once said the foolishly wise little missionary.

And now it has all come to pass.

Once again I am alone, yet never lonely, for my blessings are unmeasured.  I have my work.  I have love, and The House of the Misty Star holds the precious jewel of memory.

THE END

Transcriber’s notes:  Quotation marks normalised.