"We shall know their full value," whispered a voice from the corner of the room which Joy's eyes had not penetrated. On a low cot lay an invalid, helpless and blind.
The tears fell from her own eyes an instant, and then sparkled with a greater brilliancy than before, as she said, "And this, too, shall pass away."
The closed eyes, from which all light had been shut out for seven long years, now slowly opened; the palsied limbs relaxed; life leaped through the veins once more; and she arose from her bed, while the household gathered round her.
A son, who was supposed to have been lost at sea, after an absence of many years returned at that moment, laden with gold and other treasures far greater, than the glittering ore,—lessons of life, which, through suffering, he had wrought into his mind.
Joy departed, amid their tumult of rejoicing, and joined her sister.
The happy family did not miss her for a time; yet when their great and sudden happiness subsided into realization they sought her, but in vain.
They needed her not; for the essence of her life was with them, while she was walking over the earth, carrying pleasure and happiness to thousands; yet doing the work of her father no more than her worn and sad-eyed sister.