It was early autumn, and the skies and trees were glowing with all the tinges and beauties of that season.  Scarlet maples flashed here and there from their back-ground of pines and firs along the road, while over the dead limbs clambered the ivy, more brilliant in death than in life.  The air was full of life.  The voice of her friend chatting by her side was soothing to her nerves and spirits, for her life had been full almost to bursting since he had come so near.

“You astonish me more and more, Dawn,” said her friend, who had dropped her lighter mood, as they rode leisurely by the forest trees, which ever seem to suggest deeper thoughts.

“And why, may I ask?”

“Because your reconciliation to your loss seems so strange and unusual.”

“I have no loss.  My friend has come home closer to my heart and understanding.  The form is of little value to us when death gives us so much more of an individual.”

“Would I could think as you do, Dawn.  You are strange, and yet you seem to get at the very core of life’s experiences.”

“We cannot all think alike.  There must ever be an individuality of thought, as well as of feature, yet on the common ground of principles we can meet.  My serenity of mind is born of vision, for most clearly do I perceive that had I been united on earth to Ralph, our lives would have been limited.  We should have gone into each other and remained, for he was the complement of my very self.  In a world of so much need of labor, we could not be allowed to be of so little use to mankind.”

“But I do not see why you might not have blessed humanity more by your united efforts.”

“Because we should have been located, spiritually insphered in each other’s life.  Now I have no excuse for halting.  I must be forever moving to some center, and he will find his life in and through me, loving me ever, but yet never quite settling into my life, which he was naturally inclined to do.  In his atmosphere I shall gather another kind of strength and life; a life of two-fold power, because he will be so near in affection, so close and indwelling.  I shall have the light of his spiritual life within me to guide me on; and can I not labor, yea, bear all things with such strength?”

“O, Dawn, for such light one could call life and toil here, rest and heaven.”

“As it ever will be if we seek the harmonies of our lives.”

“Now you rob death of its gloom to me.  You must talk with Basil of these things, he can understand and appreciate them.  Did you know that he was a relative of the Seyton’s, a cousin to Ralph’s mother?”

Dawn started.  It was all clear now.  Ralph would have her go to them, and that was the cause of her yearning to be there.

“Shall we go to-morrow,” she asked of her friend, who sat abstracted by her side.

“Where?”

“To Miss Bernard’s?”

“Yes, to-morrow.  They are anxious to see you, as is also your protege, young Mr. Bowen, who has inquired for you every time I have met him.”