He was quite prepared for his office at the moment when all was ready for him. None who were present had ever beheld or listened to a funeral service so impressive as this of the greyheaded father over the grave of his son. The few, the very few natural tears shed at the moment of final surrender did not impair the dignity of the service, nor, most assuredly, the acceptableness of the devotion from which, as much as from human grief, they sprang. The doctor would himself see the grave filled up, and the felled trees so arranged upon it as to render it perfectly safe. Then he was ready to be the support of his wife home; and at his own gate, he forgot none who had paid this last mark of respect to his son. He shook hands with them every one, and touched his hat to them when he withdrew within the gate. Mrs. Sneyd wistfully followed him into his study, instead of going to seek her daughter.—Was he going to write? “Yes, my dear. There is one in England to whom these tidings are first due from ourselves. I shall write but little; for hers will be an affliction with which we must not intermeddle. At least, it is natural for Arthur’s father to think so. Will you stay beside me? Or are you going to Louisa?” "I ought to write to Mrs. Rogers; and I think I will do it now, beside you. And yet——Louisa——Tell me, dear, which I shall do." There was something in the listlessness and indecision of tone with which this was said that more nearly overset Dr. Sneyd’s fortitude than any thing that had happened this day. Conquering his emotion, he said, "Let us both take a turn in the garden first, and then——"—and he drew his wife’s arm within his own, and led her out. Temmy was there,—lingering, solitary and disconsolate in one of the walks. The servants had told him that he must not go up to his mamma; they believed she was asleep; and then Temmy did not know where to go, and was not at all sure how much he might do on the day of a funeral. In exerting themselves to cheer him, the doctor and Mrs. Sneyd revived each other; and when Mrs. Temple arose, head-achy and feverish, and went to the window for air, she was surprised to see her father with his spade in his hand, looking on while Mrs. Sneyd and Temmy sought out the last remains of the autumn fruit in the orchard.