“It seemed just as though mamma was here and sang too, papa, did n’t it?”

“Mamma, no doubt, is with us.  I am glad my little girl feels her presence, and always remember that she is with you, too, when you feel tempted to do wrong.”

She nestled her head on his bosom and wept.  Tears of joy or sorrow?  Only they whose souls are finely and intensely strung, can know what made her weep.

“You must sing for us now, Miss Vernon,” he said, and would have led her to the instrument, but for the burden of love, which was resting on his heart.

“I play only simple songs, Mr. Wyman, and, indeed, am quite out of practice.”

“You have some gems stowed away, I know; please sing us one.”

She arose, and after a few trembling notes, sang a sweet song with such pathos and richness that Mr. Wyman called again for more and more.  Dawn was wild with joy, and then her father, after Miss Vernon declined to play more, proposed that they should sing an evening hymn.

In this they all joined, Miss Vernon’s rich contralto blending sweetly with Dawn’s pure soprano.

Their dreams were sweet and peaceful that night.  Their souls had all met and harmonized, and harmony ever brings rest.

The following day Miss Vernon looked over Dawn’s clothing, and laid aside whatever needed repairing.  She was just folding some aprons, when the child rushed into the room, saying,—­

“O, Miss Vernon, I must wear my blue dress to-day.”

“Why that one?”

“Because I feel good, and blue is heavenly, so let me wear it, please, will you?”

“It’s rather short, Dawn, but I suppose it will cover all your goodness for one day, will it not?”

“O, don’t laugh, I feel truly good to-day, and any other dress would not do.”

“You shall have it, Dawn.  I am glad you like to dress according to your feelings.  I do myself.”

“Then how do you feel to-day, and what shall you dress in?”

“I feel very, very happy, but have no garment to symbolize my feelings.”

“I don’t want you to wear that grey dress, though, to-day?”

“Why?”

“Because it don’t say anything.”

“Nor my black?”

“O, no, no!”

“How will the drab with blue trimmings suit?”

“It’s just the dress.  You are silent, and have been rather sad, you know, Miss Vernon, and the blue is the glimmer of sky above your old, dull life.  Do wear the drab with blue ribbons.”

“I will, Dawn.  My life is brighter, because I have some one to love;” and she pressed her lips warmly to the cheeks of her little charge.

When Mr. Wyman came in to dinner he thought he had never seen Dawn looking so fresh and beautiful, while his eyes rested in full satisfaction on Miss Vernon’s lovely form, so becomingly arrayed.  He liked the absence of the black dress, for its removal seemed to betoken a happier life, a life which he knew she needed, and which he mentally resolved she should possess, so far as he could contribute to it.