Seated near on a low stool, with legs stretched forth in lazy comfort, is Dick, newly home from a long, perilous voyage. He is very much improved and changed, but in the gallant young officer one can still discover traces of the bluff sailor boy whose kind, honest heart won for him the love and friendship of all with whom he associated. He has continued to rise steadily in his profession, and Mr. Blake is proud of his scapegrace son at last.
A little further away, at the other side of the fire, sits Edith, smiling and light-hearted as ever, and with the same fair, sweet face; but a plain golden band, circling one white finger, proclaims that the gay, laughing girl has found a woman's true place in the world, and that the grave, gentlemanly captain has won his suit in the end.
And now we have come to the last occupant of the room—a young lady, seated in very unladylike fashion on the rug, and so little changed that in the fresh bright countenance we have no difficulty in recognizing our old friend Nellie Latimer. She is spending a few weeks in town with Winnie, and if report speaks true, there is a possibility that in the dim future Winnie may find a sister in her old school-mate of past years.
"How nice and cosy we all look!" she is saying in her blithe young voice; "one values light and warmth on a night like this. Hush! do you hear the wind? I pity those on the sea to-night."
Dick looks grave. "Ah, Nellie," he replies quietly, "pity hearts that are watching and praying in their lonely homes."
"The wind," says Winnie in a low whisper, "always makes me think of Aunt Judith in her quiet grave. I suppose it is a stupid feeling, but I hate the thought of the rain dripping and making a wet, wet sod above her. I should like the sunshine to be always lingering on her quiet resting-place."
The laughter has died out of each face, and eyes become a little misty, showing the dead friend is still near and dear to the hearts of those who loved her.
"Dear Aunt Judith," murmurs Nellie sadly, "we never realized how good she was till we lost her. Every one with whom she came in contact seems to have felt the benefit of her influence; and I—why, I owe her more than I can ever tell."
"I think we may all say that, Nell," adds Dick. "It was she who first inspired me with a reverence for all women, and helped to make me what I am now."
"As for me," says Winnie with a sad, sweet smile, "she showed me the way wherein I should walk, and taught me the great beauty of the Christ-life."