The Making of a Woman by Amy Le Feuvre

"Come, my beloved! we will haste and go / To those pale faces of our fellow-men! / Our loving hearts, burning with summer fire, / Will cast a glow upon their pallidness; / Our hands will help them, far as servants may; / Hands are apostles still to saviour hearts, / So we may share their blessedness with them. "-MacDonald.

IT was a bright, frosty day, the latter end of February, when Dr. Fergusson and Jean paid their first visit together to Sunnie and her mother.

As Jean entered the familiar hall, and her eyes wandered to the family pictures and the race of Margarets, she gave a little start as she recognised Sunnie's picture amongst them.

"A framed sunbeam," said Dr. Fergusson, following her looks. "You will never paint a more successful picture, Jean."

Then they went up the stairs to the old nursery. Jean wondered if she were dreaming; everything seemed exactly the same. She almost expected when the door was opened to see the little golden-haired figure on the couch in the firelight, but instead, she saw Mrs. Gordon in a low chair by the fire and Sunnie sitting on the rug with her head resting against her mother's knee.

The child was on her feet in an instant, and with a joyous cry, started forward and precipitated herself into Jean's arms.

"My painter has come at last!"

Mrs. Gordon welcomed Jean affectionately.

"Sunnie has done nothing but talk of you ever since we heard the news. We hoped you might come over this afternoon, but were not sure."

"Now," announced Sunnie, "we will all sit round the fire and have a talk like we used to do; but may I place the chairs, mother?"

Assent was given. It seemed strange to Jean to watch the child's active movements. She looked White and fragile still, and seemed taller than when she had lain on her couch, but her cloud of soft hair floated over her shoulders in the old bewitching way, and her little expressive face had lost none of its fascinating sweetness and joyousness.

"The big cushioned chair for my painter, for then she can take me on her knee, and mother will be in her own chair on one side of her to talk to her, and Cousin Leslie will have his own lounge seat on the other side of her, and we'll all be as close together as ever we can manage, for we all love each other so, don't we! And this is my party, for mother said it was."

"I think I am the favoured one," said Jean as, after settling every one to her satisfaction, Sunnie climbed into her lap. "I don't think I have ever held you in my arms before."

"She is not very heavy, is she? " said her mother, looking at her child rather wistfully as she spoke.

"Leslie, what do you think of her?"

"She is first rate," he replied cheerfully. "Perhaps she ought to be fattened up a bit, but you must expect her running about to take it out of her a little."

"I do run about, don't I, mother? " Sunnie put in, "but my days now are like the days in heaven."

Then she put her arms round Jean's neck and drew her face down to kiss.

"I'm going to call you Cousin Jean now. Do you remember I dreamt long ago, soon after you came to paint my picture, that you and Cousin Leslie, were holding hands and running away from me? You won't do that, will you? I'm so excited about it. When will you be married, and where will you live? Close to us, won't you? And then I can come and have tea with you sometimes. Cousin Leslie, do go to the piano and play all about it, and play the wedding-bells ringing? Please do!"

She was off Jean's lap and by Dr. Fergusson's side in a second. Jean's face got crimson, but Dr. Fergusson, with a little laugh, went over to the piano. He dashed into a merry chime of bells, and then drifted into the Wedding March, which delighted Sunnie and rather embarrassed Jean. Then he got up, and placed his hand lightly on Jean's shoulder.