been clasped, and after the look which comes but once to all had
settled on her face. That was the last of 'Lina, with that cry for
pardon she passed away, and though it was but a deathbed repentance,
and she, the departed, had much need for pardon, Alice and the
half-acknowledged mother clung to it as to a ray of hope, knowing how
tender and full of compassion was the blessed Savior, even to those who
turn not to Him until the river of death is bearing them away. Very
gently Hugh laid the dead girl back upon the pillow, and leaving one
kiss on her white forehead, hurried away to his own room, where, unseen
to mortal eye, he could ask for knowledge to give himself aright to the
God who had come so near to them.

There were no noisy outbursts among the negroes when told their young
mistress was dead, for 'Lina had not been greatly loved. The sight of
Alice's swollen eyes and tear-stained face affected Mug, it is true, but
even she could not cry until she had coaxed old Uncle Sam to repeat to
her, for the twentieth time, the story of Bethlehem's little children
slain, by order of the cruel Herod. This story, told in old Sam's
peculiar way, had the desired effect, and the tears which refused to
start even at the sight of 'Lina dead, flowed freely for the little ones
over whom Rachel wept, refusing to be comforted.

"I can cry dreffully now, Miss Alice, I'se sorry, Miss 'Lina is dead,
very sorry. She never can come back any more, can she?" Mug sobbed,
running up to Alice, and hiding her face in her dress.

And this was about as real as any grief expressed by the blacks for
'Lina. Poor 'Lina, she had taken no pains to win affection while she was
living, and she could not expect to be missed much when she was gone.
Hugh mourned for her the most, more even than his mother or Densie
Densmore--the latter of whom seemed crazier than ever, shutting herself
entirely in her room, and refusing to be present at the funeral. 'Lina
had been ashamed of her, she said, and she would not disgrace her by
claiming relationship now that she was dead, so with eyes whose
blackness was dimmed by tears, she watched from her window the
procession moving from the yard, across the fields, and out to the
hillside, where the Spring Bank dead were buried, and where on the last
day of blooming, beautiful May, they laid 'Lina to rest, forgetting all
her faults, and speaking only kindly words of her as they went slowly
back to the house, from which she h