gifts the most precious--two souls given back to each other. If the
joy bells in their hearts but had voice, their silvery ringing would
have filled all the land.

"Vida, can you be happy here until spring?" Mr. Eldred asked, a few
days after Christmas. "My work would suffer, I fear, were I to leave
it now."

"Why leave it in the spring, dear Thane? Let us stay here always, in
this beautiful, quiet place, where the people love you so, and--I did
not tell you yet," Vida said, half shyly, "but my money is not mine
any more. I gave it all to the dear Lord, I would like to build a
pretty church with some of it, and here we will stay and work, you
and I together. I can help you now, Thane--a little. Don't you like
my plan?" she said, anxiously, when he did not speak.

"My darling, you have made me so happy that I could not speak," he
said, after a little. "I wish it above all things--to go on with my
work here, and a new church is so much needed. How strange that you
should be willing to stay, and that we can work together! Oh, Vida! I
prayed--with faith, I thought--but I never dreamed of an hour like
this; surely 'It has not entered into our hearts to conceive the
things which God has prepared for them that love Him--in this life.'"

There was another sensation in an audience when the pastor of the log
church brought in his wife, for naught so fair and sweet had ever
gladdened their rustic eyes before. The singing that day was mostly
solo, or at least, duets. Her pure, birdlike voice filled the church,
and what could they do but listen, wondering meanwhile whether it
might not be a lark, or an angel come down for a season.