evergreen rose, creeping over the headstone, was full of glossy leaves and the violets upon his breast were budding. The girls knelt on either side of the grave; trimmed away the dead twigs of the rose, plucked the sere leaves of the violet, and clipped the ragged grass--talking softly, as over a sleeping babe. Besides themselves, there were no visitors in the grounds; and having deposited their offering upon the mound, they sat down. Ellen's arm was encircling Ida's waist, while one of the latter's rested on the grave. "I may not do that," said Ellen, mournfully. "Although when it rains or snows at night, I weep to think how it beats upon him, and pine to shelter him with my arms,--when I am here--and I come often, Ida--secretly! I see him dead--perhaps murdered by me--and I no more dare embrace that clay, as you are doing, than the murderer would touch the body of his victim, lest it should bleed afresh." "This is morbid regret, Ellen. I was his sister and confidante. You had nothing to do with his death; if you had never parted, the disease might have assailed him. The blight upon your heart is deadly enough, without increasing it by unmerited self-reproach. Everything is so calm and sweet here, this afternoon, and I have such a consoling surety that he is happy! The spirits of the loved return to earth--are hovering about us--present, although unseen. He may be with us." '"Do they love there still?'" said Ellen. "They do--with a love purged from selfishness and doubtings--perfect--pure! Oh! Ellen! the bliss and holiness of Heaven! why do we love this world so well?" "They are loveless alike to me; I have no hope or rest in either. When he was here, I loved this earth, because he was upon it; its charm has gone--and can I thank, or revere Him who bereaved me?" "My dear girl! He smites to heal. In my short life, I have studied His providences sufficiently to teach me that it is the wise Physician, as well as the Father, who takes away our hurtful delights, and rives our hearts. He waits now, Ellen, to infuse life--His life, into your fainting soul--to wind these severed cords about His loving heart. This patient, boundless love was our Lynn's dying hope; and you will never be comforted until you accept it." "It is easy to talk!" said Ellen, fretfully. "You cannot understand a sorrow like mine." "The heart knoweth its own bitterness, Ellen, and my life has not been all sunshine. There are griefs, piercing and drying up the spirit--never revealed to man."