"Were it at any other funeral, I would not be present, Miles," she said, the tremour of her voice sensibly increasing; "but I cannot divest myself of the idea that the spirit of Grace will be hovering near; that the presence of her more than sister will be acceptable. Whatever the Providence of God may have ordered for the dear departed, I know it will be grateful to myself to join in the prayers of the church--besides, I am not altogether without the womanly feeling of wishing to watch over the form of Grace while it remains above ground. And now, Miles, brother, friend, _Grace's_ brother, or by whatever endearing term I may address you," added Lucy, rising, coming to my side of the table, and taking my hand. "I have one thing to say that I alone can say, for it would never suggest itself as necessary to my dear father." I looked earnestly at Lucy's sweet countenance, and saw it was full of concern--I had almost said of alarm. "I believe I understand you, Lucy," I answered, though a sensation at the throat nearly choked me--"Rupert is here?" "He is, Miles; I implore you to remember what would be the wishes of her who is now a saint in heaven--what her entreaties, her tears would implore of you, had not God placed a barrier between us." "I understand you, Lucy"--was the husky reply--"I do remember all you wish, though that recollection is unnecessary. I would rather not see him; but never can! forget that he is your brother!" "You will see as little of him as possible, Miles--bless you, bless you, for this forbearance!" I felt Lucy's hasty but warm kiss on my forehead as she quitted the room. It seemed to me a seal of a compact between us that was far too sacred ever to allow me to dream of violating it.