They carried her fainting to her little bed, and uttered not a word to one another till she revived. The shock was sudden, but not unexpected, and they knew now that the hand of death was upon her, although her eyes soon became brighter and brighter, they thought, than they had ever been before. But forehead, cheeks, lips, neck, and breast, were, all as white, and, to the quivering hands that touched them, almost as cold, as snow. Ineffable was the bliss in those radiant eyes; but the breath of words was frozen, and that hymn was almost her last farewell. Some few words she spake, and named the hour and day she wished to be buried. Her lips could then just faintly return the kiss, and no more--a film came over the now dim blue of her eyes--the father listened for her breath--and then the mother took his place, and leaned her ear to the unbreathing mouth, long deluding herself with its lifelike smile; but a sudden darkness in the room, and a sudden stillness--most dreadful both--convinced their unbelieving hearts at last--that it was death! All the parish, it may be said, attended her funeral--for none staid away from the kirk that Sabbath--though many a voice was unable to join in the psalm. The little grave was soon filled up, and you hardly knew that the turf had been disturbed beneath which she lay. The afternoon service consisted but of a prayer--for he who ministered, had loved her with love unspeakable--and, though an old grey-haired man, all the time he prayed he wept. In the sobbing kirk her parents were sitting, but no one looked at them--and when the congregation rose to go, there they remained sitting--and an hour afterwards, came out again into the open air--and parting with their pastor at the gate, walked away to their hut, overshadowed with the blessing of a thousand prayers!