Gypsy's Cousin Joy by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward

They were alone together in the quiet room -- Peace Maythorne and Joy. The thick yellow sunlight fell in, touching the old places, -- the wall where Gypsy's blue and golden text was hanging, -- a little patch of the faded carpet, the bed, and the folded hands upon it, and the peaceful face.

Joy had crept up somewhat timidly into Gypsy's place close by the pillow. She was talking, half sadly, half gladly, as if she hardly knew whether to laugh or cry.