“I am glad you do, Dawn.  And now tell me why you love her.”

“I love her because she is white.”

“You mean that she is pure.  I think she is.”

“Yes.  I mean that and something else.”

“What?”

“In one of my lessons, you told me, that some objects were white, because they absorbed none of the rays, but reflected all.”

“You must explain your singular application-or in plain words, tell me how she reflects all, and takes none.”

“Why, because she don’t take the life from people, but gives to them.”

“You know just what I mean-she throws it back to themselves purified by her light.”  And the child’s face was not her own, another’s shone through it.

“Very good, Dawn, I hope we shall sometime know this pure young lady, and receive a brightness from her,” said Miss Vernon, talking more to herself than the strange child who was dancing at that moment in time to the waves.

“According to your scientific symbol, I suppose we shall see some black people here before we go,” she said laughingly to the child.

“Yes, there are plenty of those everywhere.  They take all the light, and give none out.  But see, Miss Vernon, the lady is sitting on a rock and weeping, may I go to her?”

“Would it not be an intrusion?”

“Yes, sometimes, but not now.  May I go?  Papa would let me, I think.”

“You must ask him.  I had rather not give you such a liberty.”

“Then I will,” and she flew at the top of her speed to the bank where he was sitting.

“May I go and see that lady out on the rock, papa?”

“Why?  Do you know her?”

No, but I must go,” and as she spoke Dawn’s eyes had that strange look which betokened an inner vision.

“Yes, daughter, go,” was his answer, and she bounded from his side, and was close to the weeping stranger, in an instant.

Her father watched her with the deepest interest, and almost wished himself within hearing.

She did not approach the stranger quietly, but with one bound sprang and threw her arms around her neck, saying in a voice deeper and stronger than her own: 

“Pearl, I am here.  Weep no more!”

The young girl thrilled, but not with terror, for to her such things were of frequent occurrence.  Yet the proof to her now of the presence of the unseen was of such a positive nature, more tangible than she had felt for months, that all her accumulated doubts gave way, and the pure waters of faith flowed over her soul.

Here, among strangers, where none knew her name, or her grief, had the voice of her loved one spoken.  Why should she doubt?  Why should thousands, who have every day a similar experience?

She rose from her position, and taking the hand of the child, which thrilled strangely to her touch, walked towards the house.

“Do you love the sea?” she asked of the little stranger.