Faith glanced from the stars to the scarcely less brilliant eyes of Hope, and a few tears fell over her face.  Even Hope sighed, and almost wished herself back to her starry home with her father.

“Are you sorry, Hope, that you came to earth?” asked Faith, tenderly.

“No:  but I was thinking—­”

“I know your thought:  it must be the same as my own,” said Faith.

“Yes, our sister—­” Hope ventured thus far.

“Charity come too.”  Faith finished the sentence.

“Just my wish,” said Hope, rejoiced to find they had the same desire.

“I see,” said Faith, “that we are all needed here to make our work complete,” while the brilliant eyes of Hope spoke more than words.

“I have felt for a long time,” answered Hope, “that another element, softer, sweeter, and finer than ours, was needful for the people.”

“Do you suppose that father would spare Charity, too?” asked Hope of her sister.

“I know he would, if convinced that earth’s people would receive her.”

“Why, Faith, you speak with such confidence!”

“Because I know how good our father is, as you do yourself, Hope.  If needed, she will come,” said Faith, trustingly, thinking of her own experience that lonely night.

“Charity is so delicate,” said Hope, a little doubtfully, “I do not quite see how she could endure this cold clime.”

“She could not without our presence to sustain her,” answered Faith.

“But, with us to help her, she could; for we can all live wherever we are called to do the work of our father.”

“Let us lift the voices of our souls,” said Hope; and they offered a silent prayer for their sister.

* * * * *

That night, in his abode of peace and comfort, the father walked to and fro; for the voices of his children on the earth, pleading for their sister, had reached him.

It was not without a struggle that he called the only remaining child to his side to look upon her for the last time for many years.

“It must be,” he said, “and then will my sacrifice be perfect; and from perfect sacrifice must fullness of good come forth.  Faith alone could not perfect the work; Hope’s added brightness was not all that was needed.  Charity must be added.”  And he drew the fair, frail form to his side, and told her to go for her mantle.

He enveloped her slight figure in the spotless garment, and, placing her in the care of Zephyr, the gentle west wind, who was always faithful to her charges, bade her depart, with his prayers and blessings.

Zephyr was very tender of her charge, and, after what seemed a long journey to Charity, she laid her on a soft bed of moss in a pleasant woodland, where her sisters were gathering flowers.

She might have lain there some time had not Faith’s eyes discovered her coming through the clouds.