"How would you feel, Winnie, if you thought that was so?" "I _do_ think it sometimes -- pretty often," -- said Winnie, "and it don't make me feel sorry, Governor." "You think heaven is better than earth." "Yes, --and then -- that's one good thing of my sickness -- it don't seem as if I ever could do much if I lived, so it matters the less." "Nobody knows how much he does, who does his duty," said Winthrop. "Why I can't do anything at all!" said Winnie. "Every talent that isn't buried brings something into the treasury," said Winthrop. "Yes -- that's pleasant," said Winnie; -- "but I don't know what mine is." "The good that people do unconsciously is often more than that they intend." "Unconsciously! -- But then they don't know whether they do it or not?" "It don't hurt them, not to know," said her brother smiling. "But what sort of good-doing is that, Winthrop?" "It only happens in the case of those persons whose eye is very single; -- with their eye full of the light they are reflecting, they cannot see the reflection. But it is said of those that 'their works do follow them.'" Winnie was tearfully silent, thinking of the ingathering of joy there would be for one that she knew; and if Winthrop's arm was drawn a little closer round her little figure, perhaps it was with a like thought for her. How bright the moonlight shone! "That's pleasant to think, Governor, -- both parts of it," said Winifred softly, beating his hand slightly with one of her own. He was silent. "Now won't you sing something else? -- for I'm tired," she said, nestling her head more heavily on his breast. And he sang again. -- "'Vain are all terrestrial pleasures, "' Mixed with dross the purest gold; "'Seek we then for heavenly treasures, "'Treasures never growing old. "'Let our best affections centre "'On the things around the throne; "'There no thief can ever enter, -- "'Moth and rust are there unknown. "'Earthly joys no longer please us, "'Here would we renounce them all, "'Seek our only rest in Jesus, "'Him our Lord and Master call. "'Faith, our languid spirits cheering, "'Points to brighter worlds above; "'Bids us look for his appearing, "'Bids us triumph in his love. "'Let our lights be always burning, "'And our loins be girded round, "'Waiting for our Lord's returning, "'Longing for the joyful sound. "'Thus the christian life adorning, "'Never need we be afraid, "'Should he come at night or morning, "'Early dawn, or evening shade."' The air was slow, tender, and plaintive, and borne by the deep voice over all the breadth of the moon-lit river. Winnie's breath was fuller drawn; the skipper held his, and forgot his helm; and in every pause of the song, the sweet interlude was played by the water under the sloop's prow. "Governor --" said Winnie, when the bubbling water had been listened to alone for a while. "What?" "Do you think those words are quite true?" "Those words of the hymn?"