They had an early supper, and the September sunset streamed through the
open window on the old-fashioned china tea-set. Beth was disappointed
after tea when her father's services were required immediately by a
patient several miles away. Arthur and she sat down by that same old
parlor window in the hush of the coming night; a few white clouds were
spread like angel wings above and the early stars were shining in the
west. They were silent for a while. Arthur and Beth were often silent
when together, but the silence was a pleasing, not an embarrassing one.

"Are you sorry to leave home, Beth?" asked Arthur.

"Yes, I am; and would you believe it, I thought I'd be so glad to have a
change, and yet it makes me sad now the time is drawing near."

They were silent again for a while.

"Arthur, do you know, I think it seems so hard for you to go away so far
and be a missionary when you are so fond of home and home life."

He smiled tenderly upon her, but she did not know the meaning of that
smile then as she knew a little later.

"It is my Father's will," he said with a sweeter, graver smile.

"Beth, do you not see how your talent could be used in the mission
field?"

"He does not know I am going to marry Clarence," she thought with a
smile, "and he is going to map out a life work for a maiden lady."