a world of reproach in his meaning. "Is
this a place for songs? or am I a man to sing?"

"Why not, Mr. Axtell? Aaron told me that you could sing, if you would;
he has heard you."

"I will sing for you," he said, "if, after I am done, you choose to hear
the song I sing."

I thought again of Miss Lettie, and put the question, once unheeded,
concerning her.

"She is better. Your sister is a charming nurse."

A long quiet ensued; in it came the memory of Dr. Eaton's interest in
the young girl's face.

"Is Mr. Axtell an artist?" I asked, after the silence.

"Mr. Axtell is a church-sexton," was the response.

"Cannot he be both sexton and artist?"

"How can he?"

"You have a strange way of telling me that I ought not to question you,"
I said, vexed at his non-committal words and manner.

He changed the subject widely, when next he spoke.

"Have you the letter that you picked up last night?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Axtell."

"Give it to me, please."

"Did Miss Lettie commission you to ask?"

"She did not."

"Then I cannot give it to you."

"Cannot give me my sister's letter?"

"It was to _me_ that it was intrusted."

"And you are afraid to trust me with it?"

"I am afraid to break the trust reposed in myself."

Again the black roll of silent thunder gloomed on his brow; as once his
sister's eyes had been, his now were coruscant.

"Do you refuse to give it to me?" he demanded.

"I do," I said, "now, and until Miss Lettie says, 'Give.'"

"You've learned the contents, I presume," he said, with untold sarcasm.
"Woman's curiosity digs deeply, when once aroused."

"You've been taught of woman in a sad school, I fear. I'll forgive the
faults of your education, Mr. Axtell. Have you any more remarks to me?
I'm waiting."

"Do you know the contents of the letter that made Lettie so anxious?"

"You accused me before questioning formerly, or I should have given you
truth. I have no knowledge of what is in the letter."

He had resumed his former position, leaning against the monument, where
I had mine. He changed it now, drawing nearer for an instant, then went
to the side of the grave that he had asked me concerning, kneeled there,
laid two hands above it, and said,--

"Letty was right, Miss Anna. God has made you well,--made you after the
similitude of her who sleeps underneath this sod. Will you forgive my
rudeness?"

And he looked down as I had done, ere he came, into the tangled, matted
fibres, th