The next morning, Roland went to Woodcliff for the work. Madeline was not at home, and Roland was not sorry; for he felt that it was humbling to be there on such an errand. The feeling was a wrong one, but Roland was a proud boy, though a poor one. There was no little confusion in his soul on that day. He was performing a filial duty, that he knew; he was doing nothing that he ought to be ashamed of, and yet the pride of his heart did rise up against the humiliation of menial service, in the sight of Madeline. Not far from Roland's home lay the village church-yard, whither the inhabitants of the country around often resorted. It was a charming spot, beautifully kept, and adorned with shrubbery, fine trees, and a variety of exquisite flowers. Many of Mrs. Bruce's lessons to her children were taught in that rural cemetery on Sunday evening, after the services of the day were over. On the following Sunday, Roland strayed thither alone. He had not been there long, before Madeline entered, with Hector for her only companion. Roland joined the child. "This is a beautiful place, Miss Madeline," remarked the boy. Maddy put her fingers on her lips with rather an arch expression, as she said: "I will not talk to you, if you call me Miss." Roland smiled, and continued, "Very well then, I suppose that it must be Madeline." "Come with me, Roland; I want to show you my mother's grave," and Madeline led her companion to a secluded corner of the cemetery, where stood a splendid monument, on which was inscribed, "Sacred to the memory of Julia, the beloved wife of Lewis Hamilton, who departed this life June 16th, 1837." The enclosure was beautifully laid out and adorned with choice flowers, and over the monument bent the branches of a noble tree. "Was your mother a Christian, Madeline?" asked the boy. "I do not know, Roland; I was too young to remember anything; I hope that she was." "Do you ever think of dying, Madeline?" asked her friend. "Not often, Roland; it is too dreadful to think of the dark and gloomy grave. I would rather think of living, Roland, in this bright world." "Mother never lets me call it gloomy, Maddy; she says that it is only the gate which opens into heaven; and since Jesus hath lain there himself, she says that none who believe in him need be afraid." "Do you believe in him, Roland?" asked the child. "Yes, Maddy, I do with all my heart, and love him, too; and all I want is to serve him here on earth, and live with him forever." "How long, Roland, is it since you have thought about these good things?" asked the little girl.