She had learned to know some of their voices, and now they seemed to speak
louder than ever, and their word was--"Endurance!"

The never-silent wind, that paused not, nor went back in its course, had
taught her a lesson, also, in its onward flight, its ceaseless exertion to
reach some far distant goal. And the lesson was--"Hope."

The ever-flowing spring, whose heart was never dried up either in summer or
winter, had murmured to her of--"Faith."

She laid her head at the foot of the beloved pine and said, in her heart,
"I will come back again when ten years are passed, and will here consider
whose teachings were right."

It was a cold November day. A rude north wind raved among the leafless oaks
that defied its power with their rugged, unclad arms. The heavy masses of
clouds were mirrored darkly in the spring, and the pine, grown to lofty
stature, rocked swiftly to and fro as the fierce wind struck it. Down the
hill, over the stones, and through the tempest, there came a slight and
bending form. It was the happy child who had planted the pine seed.

She threw herself on the dry leaves by the water's edge, and leaned wearily
against the strong young evergreen. How sadly her eyes roved among the
trees, and then tears commenced to fall quickly from them. She was very
pale and mournful, and drew her rich mantle closely around her to shield
her from the wind. It had been as her lover had said. She had gone out into
the world, had tasted what men call pleasure, had put aside the simple
lessons she had learned in her childhood, to follow _his_ bidding, to live
in the light of _his_ love. Ten years had dissolved the dream. The young
husband was in his grave; the child she had called after him was no more.