In a little cottage by a roadside sat Mary Deane and her sister, reading. They were two fair orphans whose father and brother were lost in battle.
"Let's put out the light, and look at the stars awhile," said the youngest.
"Not yet, dear, it's too early. There may be some passer-by, and a light is such a comfort to a traveler on the road. Many a time our neighbor's light has sent a glow over me which has enabled me to reach home much sooner, if not in better humor."
"As you like, sister,—but hark! I thought I heard footsteps."
They listened, and, hearing nothing more, finished their reading and retired to rest.
On opening their door the next morning, their eyes were gladdened by a lovely garland which hung on the knob. The flowers were rich in, perfume and color—unlike anything they had seen on earth.
Much they marveled, and wondered from whence they came, and still greater was their joy to find they did not fade.
Hope found a great many dwellings with lights in them, but had to pass many, as there was no lamp to signal them. At the door of the former she left garlands to gladden the inmates.
"It's no use to waste our oil: we have nothing to read or interest us," said one of two lonely women, on the night Hope came to the earth. So they sat down gloomily together, the darkness adding to their cheerlessness, while a bright glow within would have gladdened them and all without.
Hope went by, laden with garlands, just as they took their seats in the shadows. She would gladly have left them, for she had enough and to spare; but, seeing no sign of a habitation, walked on.