From her eyes, still dewy with tears, the holy
soul looked upward; and her lips kept the expression of the prayer
that was in her heart. She did not wonder at the words that had fallen
from them. After a moment's silence, she said:
"My mother loved Aunt Lucy very dearly. Her death made a deal of
difference in mother's life."
"Death is always a great sorrow to those who love us; but for
ourselves, it is only to bow our heads at going out, and to enter
straightway another golden chamber of the King's, lovelier than the
one we leave."
Elizabeth scarce knew how to answer. She had never been used to discuss
sacred subjects with girls her own age; in fact, she had a vague idea
that such subjects were not to be discussed out of church, or, at
least, without a clergyman to direct the conversation. And Phyllis's
childish figure, glowing face, and sublime confidence affected her
with a sense of something strange and remote. Yet the conversation
interested her greatly. People are very foolish who restrain spiritual
confidences; no topic is so universally and permanently interesting
as religious experience. Elizabeth felt its charm at once. She loved
God, but loved him, as it were, afar off; she almost feared to speak
to him. She had never dared to speak of him.
"Do you really think, Phyllis, that angels care about our earthly
loves?"
"Yes, I do.
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