"Ah, no, Elizabeth! No life is waste in the great Worker's hands. If
human love wounds and wrongs us, are we not circled by angels as the
stars by heaven? Our soul relatives sorrow in our sorrow; and out
of the apparent loss bring golden gain. I think she would know this
before she died."

"She died as the good die, blessing and hoping."

Elizabeth looked steadily at Phyllis. She thought she had never seen
any face so lovely. From her eyes, still dewy with tears, the holy
soul looked upward; and her lips kept the expression of the prayer
that was in her heart. She did not wonder at the words that had fallen
from them. After a moment's silence, she said:

"My mother loved Aunt Lucy very dearly. Her death made a deal of
difference in mother's life."

"Death is always a great sorrow to those who love us; but for
ourselves, it is only to bow our heads at going out, and to enter
straightway another golden chamber of the King's, lovelier than the
one we leave."

Elizabeth scarce knew how to answer. She had never been used to discuss
sacred subjects with girls her own age; in fact, she had a vague idea
that such subjects were not to be discussed out of church, or, at
least, without a clergyman to direct the conversation. And Phyllis's
childish figure, glowing face, and sublime confidence affected her
with a sense of something strange and remote. Yet the conversation
interested her greatly. People are very foolish who restrain spiritual