They had time to watch her as she went to claim her trunk, and they saw her shake hands with the leisurely official, who was evidently an acquaintance. But when she turned at last to the window she did not look "forlorn." A beautiful face looked up from under a big bonnet--a rarely beautiful face, delicate yet strong. There were slight hollows and a darkened shade beneath the lovely grey eyes set wide apart under a low broad forehead, and the pale rose-tint on her cheeks might have been deeper with advantage. The look of delicacy was due to the hard work she had been doing, but the strength was real, and she would last through harder work than ever she was likely to have at school. Forlorn? No. Her face was radiant! The solemn-looking station-master had wrought the change. "Well, Fidelia, you've got home, haven't you? Folks don't expect you, do they?" "I didn't write that I was coming. I was not sure till the last minute. Are they all well about here?" "Yes, I guess so. Eunice is well, any way. She was to meeting Sunday; and seems to me Lucinda said she was at the sewing-circle at the doctor's the other day. She'll be glad to see _you_, sick or well." "I'm glad and thankful that she is well," said Fidelia softly. "I must say good-bye to the girls." She turned quickly towards the faces at the windows. "Have you heard good news, Fidelia?" called some one. There was no time for words, but the joy on the girl's upturned face was better than any last words could have been, even though her lips trembled and her eyes were dim with tears. And then the train swept on among the hills, and she who had been called "Faithful" turned her face toward her home, to get the first glimpse of the work which awaited her there. Not the work which she had been planning for herself during the last year, but her work all the same-- the work which God had appointed her to do. Declining the station-master's invitation to "go in and see Lucinda and wait for a chance to ride home," she went on her way with a cheerful heart. She followed the wide road, leading westward, only a little way. Then she went in at an open gate, and across a stony pasture, till she came to a narrow road leading at first through a thicket of spruce and cedar, where it was necessary carefully to pick her steps over the wet moss and stones, and over the network of brown roots which the spring freshets had laid bare. After a while the road began to ascend, and then the cedars and spruces were left behind, and birch and poplar and dogwood, but chiefly great maple trees, with branches high above all the rest, covered the hillside. It was up hill and down again all the way after that till the journey was done.