Spirit Upon Spirit.
"I'm so glad that we did not choose a health resort!" exclaimed Alma standing up and feasting her eyes upon the rolling hills; green valleys, and chain of lakes.
"Yes, this is far better than contemplating other sufferers. I do hope that I will soon be well," returned Edith, who sat propped by pillows in an invalid's chair.
"Of course you will dear. This air would refresh anyone," Alma said, taking a deep breath with keen satisfaction. "You're not really ill now—just a poor little wilted flower that needs refreshing."
Edith smiled sadly.
"I hope that you are right. But somehow Alma, I feel as though everything was slipping away from me, and that my time has come to soon leave you all."
"Edith dear, you must not talk so. Such thoughts keep you from getting well," her friend replied, looking lovingly at her through a mist of tears.
Silently Edith gazed down the valley, and then giving a sigh as if to turn away from her own dreaming, she turned to Alma, smiling.
"Alma, we've been here just two days, and you have not told me your great secret. Now is the time to confide."
"That is just why I came to this place of seclusion this afternoon. I am anxious to talk it out. I am not sure whether you will be pleased with me or not. Promise me—you won't scold?" she asked playfully.