All was quiet in Catalina's bedroom, where Paula and I were seated. My sister was now on the road to a partial recovery, having passed the danger-mark some days before. Another change also I noticed had come over her. Her impatience and irritability had gradually disappeared, day by day, and when she suffered more than ordinarily, she never seemed to complain. The expression of her face had sweetened also, and even a slight but quite natural smile would often illumine her thin features. Death had passed her by, but now seemingly a new influence gradually possessed her. This simple country maid of the Waldensian mountains had come smiling into her life, and although Catalina had frequently abused the kindness of our cousin, Paula never had lost patience with the poor invalid. Soon love had triumphed, and Catalina had begun to return the love of her little nurse even though at times she still kept her tyrannical attitude. One day Catalina said to Teresa, "Paula's not a bit like the rest of us." "No," she answered, "She's a 'Daughter of the good God!' Just as I said one day when she first arrived." Teresa sighed as she added, "What would I give to be like her!" One beautiful afternoon, the poor invalid lay there with her eyes on Paula as if she wished to say something. "How do you feel now?" said Paula as Catalina's fixed gaze seemed to disturb her somewhat. "Oh, I'm all right just now. I was thinking of your god-mother's letter. She remembered, she said, the hymns you used to sing. You've never sung any of them to us, Paula." I saw a mist in Paula's eyes as she answered. "No, that's true. I don't think I've sung a note since my father's death. Would you like to hear me sing?" "Yes, indeed," said Catalina, without noticing Paula's emotion. I was on the point of reminding them of father's formal prohibition relative to hymn-singing, but an imperative sign from Catalina stopped me. "What do you wish me to sing?" said Paula. "Anything you care to. It's all the same to me." "Then," said Paula, "I will sing to you, 'No Night There.'" And then to our unaccustomed ears came the glorious words: In the land of fadeless day, Lies the city four-sqare, It shall never pass away, And there is no night there. "God shall wipe away all tears; There's no death, no pain, nor fears; And they count not time by years, For there is no night there. Paula had that rare gift, the "golden" voice, a voice that seemed to penetrate to one's very soul. Catalina was enchanted! Suddenly, I heard the heavy steps of a man coming along the corridor. But as Paula began the second stanza, I heard them pause. "All the gates of pearl are made, In the city four-square, All the streets with gold are laid, And there is no night there. "And the gates shall never close, To the city four-square, There life's crystal river flows, And there is no night there."