And rising, she stood beside Verty, who was still looking at the portrait.
"She must have been very good," he murmured; "I think her face is full of kindness."
Redbud gazed softly at the portrait, and, as she mused, the dews of love and memory suffused her tender eyes, and she turned away.
"I love the face," said Verty, softly; "and I think she must have been a kind, good mother, Redbud. I thought just now that she was listening to you as you sang."
And Verty gazed at the young girl, with a tenderness which filled her eyes with delight.
"She will bless you out of Heaven," he continued, timidly; "for you are so beautiful and good—so very beautiful!"
And a slight tremor passed over the young man's frame as he spoke.
Redbud did not reply; a deep blush suffused her face, and she murmured something. Then the young head drooped, and the face turned away.
The last ray of sunlight gleamed upon her hair and pure white forehead, and then fled away—the day was ended.
Verty saw it, and held out his hand.