red to make the day one of those
indescribable days when all hearts are pervaded with a feeling of
pleasurable sadness--a sense of beauty mingled with decay.

"Is this home?" cried Maude, as they stopped before the gate. "I
should hardly have recognized it."

It was indeed greatly changed, for Maude Glendower had perfect
taste, and if she had expended thousands upon the place, she had
greatly increased its value.

"Beautiful home, beautiful home--it must not be sold," was Louis'
exclamation as he gazed upon it.

"No, it must not be sold," returned Maude, while her husband smiled
quietly upon them both, and said nothing.

Maude Glendower had gone to an adjoining town, but Hannah and John
greeted the strangers with nosy demonstrations, the latter making
frequent use of his coat skirts to wipe away his tears.

"Can you see, marm--see me as true as you live?" he said, bowing
with great humility to Maude, of whom he stood a little in awe, so
polished were her manners and so elegant her appearance. Maude
assured him that she could, and then observing how impatient Louis
appeared, she asked for Dr. Kennedy. Assuming a mysterious air, old
Hannah whispered, "He's up in de ruff, at de top of de house, in dat
little charmber, where he stays mostly, to get shet of de music and
dancin' and raisin' ob cain generally. He's mighty broke down, but
the sight of you will peart him up right smart. You'd better go up
alone--he'll bar it better one at a time."

"Yes, go, sister," said Louis, who heard the last part of Hannah's
remarks, and felt that he could not take his father by surprise. So,
leaving her husband and brother below, Maude glided noiselessly
upstairs to the low attic room, where, by an open window, gazing
sorrowfully out upon the broad harvest-fields, soon to be no longer
his, a seemingly old man sat. And Dr. Kennedy was old, not in years,
perhaps, but in appearance. His hair had bleached as white as snow,
his form was bent, his face was furrowed with many a line of care,
while the tremulous motion of his head told of the palsy's blighting
power. And he sat there alone, that hazy autumnal day, shrinking
from the future and musing sadly of the past. From his armchair the
top of a willow tree was just discernible, and as he thought of the
two graves beneath that tree he moaned, "Oh, Katy, Matty, darlings.
You would pity me, I know, could you see me now so lonesome. My only
boy is over the sea--my only daughter is selfi