"There are no quite perfect lives even if there is a great deal of love," the lady continued. "We learn to limit our wants and expectations by what others have to give us, and it is by loving that we learn to live truly, though many shrines get despoiled of ideals as we go along in youth; but as we retrace our steps with years and experience we find God has put something better in them. I want you to come to me with any difficulty that can be confided outside of the family circle. But your mother must be your best friend; and now, dear, good-night." Lilian returned the kiss, but her heart was too full for words. Tomorrow she would belong somewhere else, have new duties. Oh, could she take them up in the right spirit? CHAPTER XV YOUR TRUE HOME Marguerite Crawford felt that she had been truly changed to some other personality when the carriage stopped under the broad _porte cochere_, and the driver opened the door with a bow for his master. There had been a slight fall of snow in the night that had wrapped every post and every tree in a mantle of jewels, and now the sun came out gorgeously, sending golden rays over the dappled sky of blue and white. Her father handed her out. Willard ran down the wide steps taking both her hands in his and kissing her fondly. A passion of regret flooded her. "Oh," in a broken tone. "I was rude and ungenerous to you yesterday. I am sorry--" "We will let that go, I knew you would regret it. I tried to look at it from your point of view, and I think you couldn't resemble mother so much in looks and not in character." Her father took her other arm. "Welcome home, my dear daughter," he exclaimed. "All our years together will prove how glad we are to have you." The hall was like a beautiful larger room, with pictures and statuary and some elegant vases that would have dwarfed a smaller space. "This is my sister, Miss Crawford--Aunt Kate, to you always; who has been like a mother to my children--" Aunt Kate bent over from her tallness and gave her a perfunctory kiss. Zay clasped both arms around her. "Oh, isn't it queer," with a musical ripple. "You certainly were a princess in disguise at school, and some of the girls said you were my double to tease me; but I don't think we look very much alike; do you, papa?" She raised her radiant face with the pearly complexion, bewitching mouth and shining eyes. Marguerite looked rather pale and cold with the strangeness. Then they went up to the mother's room, but Aunt Kate paused at the door and turned in another direction. Zay and Willard followed her. Marguerite went to her mother's arms and for many seconds neither spoke. "What a strange, long waiting without any hope," said the father at length. "I have often thought what Marguerite would be like if she had lived, and it always was impressed upon me that she would be like her mother. If I could have wished it--" The child raised her head. The dark lashes were beaded with tears.