"Let it be the lake to-day," I said.
So, turning in an entirely different direction from the path that led to the river, we walked joyously on, still talking as we went. So much to ask, so much to recall, so much to look forward to with joy!
Once she turned to me and asked quickly:
"When is my Uncle Will coming?"
My hand closed tightly over hers, and a sob almost rose in my throat, though I answered calmly:
"That is in God's hands alone; we may not question."
"Yes, I know. His will is always right; but I so long to see my dear uncle again; and to 'long' is not to repine."
She had grown so womanly, so wise, this child of tender years, since we parted, that it was a joy to talk with her. I told her of my sad errand to earth, and the sorrow of the dear ones I had left.
"Yes, yes, I know it all!" she whispered, with her soft arms about me. "But it will not be long to wait. They will come soon. It never seems long to wait for anything here. There is always so much to keep one busy; so many pleasant duties, so many joys—oh, it will not be long!"
Thus she cheered and comforted me as we walked through the ever-varying and always perfect landscape. At length she cried, lifting her arm and pointing with her rosy finger: