Messages kept coming in from those who were at work at the scene of the disaster, but they all told of defeat. And so, too, did the constant booming of cannon. In this agony of suspense, she was thankful to have neighboring friends gather around her. She clung to them as the drowning cling to the arm that is trying to rescue them. This was due to her youth. In later years she bore her sorrows unaided by human support. Many of Mrs. Grey's friends came up from the city, full of grief and full of sympathy, and uttering words of hope they hardly felt. Frank was the first of the family to arrive, though he lived farthest off; Mr. Heath and Belle came next, and the group waiting in suspense, grew larger every hour. Belle was a marvel to herself; her treble sorrow, far from crushing her, lifted her up to a calm and dignified height where she had such glimpses of the glory of God that she was almost fain to shut her eyes. They all leaned upon her as upon a rock. "Why do you stand at the window all the time?" asked Laura. "To catch the first sight of them when they come," she said, simply. "Are you still hoping? I have given them up." "I think God has heard our prayers and that He will grant us the favor of knowing that their precious dust is spared to us. Still, heaven is as easy to reach from the river as from the dry land; we must remember that. Oh, Laura, look!" A little procession was coming in sight; they bore one body on their shoulders; as they drew near, the sound of heavy boots fell like footsteps on their hearts. "It is our mother," said Frank, who had been all day by the side of the river. "Look!" He removed the covering from her face, and there she lay, the last heroic purpose written there, the eyes closed, the attitude one of perfect rest. "Let us give thanks!" said Cyril Heath. They knelt around her, but he could not master his voice, and it failed him; Frank tried, and broke down. Then a woman's gentle, calm tones were heard; gentle and calm, but strong and victorious; they almost saw the gates of heaven opened, and the triumphant entrance of a glad and glorified spirit into the presence of Christ. Laura's tears came now in floods; as they rose from their knees she threw her arms around Belle, and said: "You are on the wing; we shall lose you next!" "You are mistaken," Belle said, quietly. "Poor Margaret!" sighed Laura. "What a short, eventful career!" "I do not feel sure that Margaret is not living," said Belle. "Mamma was so ripe for heaven that it seemed natural to think of her as being called home without a moment's preparation. She desired to die suddenly; I have heard her say so, repeatedly. But dear Margaret was full of vitality and very human, and while I think she was nobly 'planned,' I also think the plan was not fully carried out." "She was one to suffer intensely." "Yes, and to enjoy intensely." "But if she is alive, where is she? Why don't we hear from her?"