And there they were lifted, and dwelt.

“We are approaching the lilies now,” said Basil, feeling that he must break the deep spiritual atmosphere into which they were all passing.  “We must keep on the earth-side a little longer,” he said, playfully.

“Long enough to gather some of these beautiful lilies at least,” said his sister, as she gazed lovingly into his deep, tender eyes.

He swung the boat round, and gathering a handful, threw them at the feet of Dawn.

“I will twine you a garland,” said Beatrice, taking some of the lilies and weaving their long stems together.

“No, no.  There are but few who can wear lilies alone, Miss Bernard.  Some may wear them, but not I.”

“You are not the best judge, perhaps, as to what becomes your spiritual and physical nature,” said Basil.

“I know my states, and that lilies are not suited to my present condition,” answered Dawn.

“Since you will not be crowned, Miss Wyman, will you please pass that basket?  I think we all need to descend into more normal conditions; we are too sublimated.”  Following this suggestion he allowed the boat to float without guidance, while they partook of the delicate yet substantial repast.

The evening carnation tinged the clouds about the setting sun as they sailed homeward, gathering lilies on their way.  The bells from a village near by were ringing, and the sound came distinctly over the water, musical and sweet to the ear.

“Do you remember the passage in Pilgrim’s Progress, where the bells in heaven were ringing, over the river?” said Beatrice to them both.

“I do,” said Dawn, earnestly.  “O, that we all were across that river.  When shall we be there?”

“I suppose when our usefulness is most needed here,” said Basil, in a tone which caused them both to start.

“Why, brother?”

“Because that seems to be the law of life.  All men and women go when most needed here; as the rose dies when its tinge is brightest, its blossom fullest.”

“And that is our time,” said Dawn.

“And God’s,” he answered.

Dawn found on her dressing table that night a garland of lilies and red roses.

“Passion and purity,” she said.  “O, this will do for human heads.”  She laid long that night wondering whether Basil or his sister twined it.  It did not seem like Beatrice, and yet she scarce thought he would do it.  It lay between them, however, and pondering on that, and the day’s keen enjoyment, she fell asleep, nor woke till morn.

Miss Bernard was very busy that day from necessity, she said, and partly to balance the state of the day previous.

“I shall want your company this afternoon for a drive,” she said to Dawn; “this morning the library, piano and garden are at your disposal, to use at your pleasure.  I have domestic duties to perform, and hope you will make yourself as comfortable as possible.”