"He is called usually to those who enter life with little preparation—that which on earth we call death-bed repentance. You know what wonderful success he always had in winning souls to Christ; and these poor spirits need to be taught from the very beginning. They enter the spirit-life in its lowest phase, and it is your father's pleasant duty to lead them upward step by step. He is devoted to his work and greatly beloved by those he thus helps. He often allows me to accompany him and labor with him, and that is such a pleasure to me! And do you know"—with an indescribable look of happiness—"I forget nothing now!"
It had been her great burden, for some years before her death, that memory failed her sadly, and I could understand and sympathize with her present delight.
"Dear heart!" I cried, folding my arms tenderly about her, "then it is like the early years of your married life again?"
"Precisely," she answered joyously.
A little later my sister drew me tenderly aside and whispered, "Tell me of my boy, of my precious son. I often see him; but we are not permitted to know as much always of the earthly life as we once believed we should. The Father's tender wisdom metes out to us the knowledge he sees is best, and we are content to wait his time for more. All you can tell would not be denied me. Is he surely, surely coming to me sometime? Shall I hold him again in my arms, my darling boy?"
"I am sure—yes, I am sure you will. Your memory is very precious to him."
Then I told her all I could recall of the son with whom she had parted while he was but a child—now grown to man's estate, honored and loved, with home and wife and son to comfort and bless him.
"Then I can wait," she said, "if he is sure to come to me at last, when his earthly work is done, bringing his wife and son. How I shall love them, too!"
At this moment I felt myself encircled by tender arms, and a hand was gently laid on my eyes.
"Who is it?" some one whispered softly.