"Yes, they are all blessings in disguise," she said, "though I could not
think thus when I laid my fair-eyed boy in the grave; nor, later, when
my next child was born blind."

"Had you none other?" asked Joy.

"One other, and she died of a broken heart."

Sorrow sighed deeply, and would rather have heard no more; but Joy
wished to hear the whole, and asked the woman to go on.

"Yes, she died heart-broken; and these two girls are hers. It was
very hard that day to see the hand of God in the cloud when they
brought the body of her husband home all mangled, and so torn that
not a feature could be recognized; and then to see poor Mary, his wife,
pine day by day until we laid her beside him."

"But the blessing was in it, mother: we have found it so. They have
only gone to prepare the way, and we have much left us."

The words of the old man were true, and it was beautiful to see the
face of his wife as it glowed with recognition.

At that moment the sisters threw back their veils. Such a radiant
face was never seen in that cottage as the beaming countenance of Joy;
while that of her sister was dark and sad to look upon.

"Oh, stay with us," exclaimed the girls to Joy, as the sisters rose to
depart.