was a sad awaking. For a little while it was with both as if they had
madly thrown a birthright away; for, though they had faith, they were
not yet perfect in it. Not soon did either see that this life had
a blessing for them every day--new every morning, fresh every
evening--and that from everlasting to everlasting are the mercies of
God. But at last he said, 'I am afraid, my darling'" (Elise started at
this word of endearment. It was like a revelation to think that there
had been lovers in the world before her time), "'it will go harder
with me than with you. I cannot stay here and go on with my work. I
must go among new people, and begin again.' And so he went away, and
at last, when by the grace of God they met again--surely, surely by no
seeking of their own--they were no less true friends because they had
for their lifetime been led into separate paths. Their faith saved
them."

Low though the voice was in which these last words were spoken, there
was a strength and inspiration in them which Elise felt. She looked
at Sister Benigna with steady, wondering eyes. Such a story from her
lips, and told so, and told now! And her countenance! what divine
beauty glowed in it! The moment had a vision that could never be
forgotten.

Elise did not speak, but neither, having heard this tale, did she now
rise to depart. She folded her hands and bowed her head upon them, and
so they sat silent until the first chords of the "Pastoral Symphony"
drew the souls of both away up into a realm which is entered only by
the pure in heart.

About this time it was that Leonhard Marten, while passing, heard that
recitative of a soprano voice which so amazed him. Dropping quickly