But afterward, as they sat side by side, I could see such a difference.  Alike in form and complexion, also having regular features, yet the light in our Clara’s eyes was incomparably purer, savored less of earth.  Miss Harris’ face was sweet, truthful, the lines of her mouth alone defining her powerful will and courage.  She was very beautiful, but earthly, while over my own Clara’s face there fell the unmistakable light of something beyond.  Oh! my saving angel, how my heart beat as I sat there drawing the comparison, giving to Miss Harris a place in the sitting-room of my womanly feeling, and yielding to my beloved Clara the entire room where lay the purest thoughts which had been boon to my spirit, coming to life at the touch of her tender hand!  She was a beacon light in the wilderness of thought.

“Tell me, Miss Minot,” said Miss Harris, “tell me all you know, for I feel you do know much.”

I explained Mr. Benton’s coming to stay with us, and when I said he took the stage this morning for town, and will be back, I suppose—­

“Never,” she interrupted, “he has heard I am here.”

“Yes,” I said, and repeated his conversation with Matthias.

“I am then foiled, but he will not elude the truth that goes with him.  He may have gone to his waiting wife.  Mrs. Chadwick will write me, for she will not lose sight of her.”

No tears came to her eyes, but the determined look deepened as it were into strength, and she said: 

“It is too bad.  I did hope to be able to make him do his duty.  Now I must hasten to become strong, and go back to Boston.  I will find him yet—­I’m sure I will.”

She talked freely of her Southern home, and expressed comfort at the hope of one day seeing us there.

“I need a little help to get there myself,” she said; “I have no cloak—­can you get one for me, Miss Minot?  I am fortunate enough to be able to pay for it, my purse being with me.”

Louis looked admiringly at the girl-woman (for such she seemed to be), and when our call ended said to her: 

“When you are strong enough to leave, may you receive great help to do what seems to be your whole duty; and if little mother or myself can aid you, please command us.”

“Thank you,” she said, “you remind me much of my dark-eyed Southern friends.”  We took our departure.  It was only one week after that the old stage carried her from our sight; but we did not forget her, nor the sad experience which had developed in her so great a strength.

Mr. Benton did not return, as Aunt Hildy predicted, and the stage brought a note for Hal, in which he said he was unavoidably detained, having found important letters at the village.  He would write him a long letter, and the letter came after ten days’ waiting, bearing the postmark of ——­ (he was with his wife).  He wrote that he was with a friend, and some unexpected business relations would keep him there for a time.  He desired his belongings sent