What she meant by “such things” perhaps would have been difficult for her to explain. But the thought in her mind was, that “last messages” from dying mothers would not be such as she could explain. Elise’s mother had been dead for many years; at least they seemed many to Elise, though she could remember her beautiful mother distinctly; and when she thought it all over, as she often did in the twilight, could seem to feel her mother’s kiss upon her lips, and the pressure of her mother’s hand on the yellow curls which used to be hers in those days. She was not yet six years old when her mother went away, but there were times when it seemed to her that she had seen her only yesterday. And at other times the years which stretched between seemed very, very long. Her father was in India in the Government employ; had been there for five years. And Elise, who received long letters from him, and elegant presents, and talked a great deal about him, yet felt sometimes that she really knew him less than she did her beautiful pale mother, who used to love her so, and kiss her so tenderly. Elise lived with an aunt who was very fond of her, and did everything to supply her mother’s place, and her uncle called her his adopted daughter; yet sometimes she cried when she was tucked up in bed for the night, because she longed so to have a mamma and papa and a home of her own, like other girls. It was perhaps because Miss Turner had no mother that she had felt drawn toward her in the first place. “What is the message?” her friend asked. “May I see it, Elise? I am half-surprised that you do not understand it; you are such a thoughtful young person, and seem older than you are; I have a feeling that you can understand what most others do.” Elise made no reply save to unclasp the pin and pass it to her friend. Miss Turner moved toward the window, where the light would fall upon it. It was a lovely arch of gold, a tiny diamond flashing in its center, and on the reverse side was engraved, in small but distinct letters, the words: “Keep His covenant.” “Why, Elise!” she said, “how beautiful this is. I should think you would like it very much.” “I do,” said Elise, “of course; only it gives me a strange feeling, as though mamma had sent me word to do something that I could not do; and I have always thought that I would like to do things to please mamma, if I only knew just what she wanted done.” “Well, but, dear,” said Miss Turner hesitatingly, “surely you can find out what this means, in a general way.” Elise smiled sadly. “I remember mamma very well,” she said, “and she always wanted me to do exactly as she said.” “Well,” said Miss Turner again, after an embarrassed pause, “this is exact enough; she means you to live a good life, you know.”