ered, there was no shock of surprise to her in the sight. At the
first sound of Mercy's voice, Lizzy came swiftly forward, and fell upon
her neck in a passion of crying.

"O Mercy, Mercy, he"--

"Yes, dear, I know it," interrupted Mercy, in a calm tone. "I know he is
dead."

"Why, who told you, Mercy?" exclaimed Lizzy. "He only died a few hours
ago,--about daybreak,"

"Oh, I thought he died in the night!" said Mercy, in a strange tone, as if
trying to recollect something accurately about which her memory was not
clear. Her look and her tone filled Lizzy with terror, and banished her
grief for the time being.

"Mercy, Mercy, don't look so!" she exclaimed. "Speak to me! Oh, do cry,
can't you?" And Lizzy's tears flowed afresh.

"No, Lizzy, I don't think I can cry," said Mercy, in the same strange, low
voice. "I wish I could have spoken to him once, though. Did he leave any
word for me? Perhaps there is something he wanted me to do."

Mercy's face was white, and her lips trembled; but her look was hardly the
look of one in sorrow: it was a rapt look, as of one walking on dizzy
heights, breathless with some solemn purpose. Lizzy was convulsed with
grief, sobbing like a child, and pouring out one incoherent sentence after
another. Mercy soothed her and comforted her as a mother might have done,
and finally compelled her to be more calm. Mercy's magnetic power over
those whom she loved was almost unlimited. She forestalled their very
wills, and made them desire what she desired.

"O Mercy, don't make me glad he is dead! You frighten me, darling. I don't
want to stop crying; but you have sealed up all my tears," cried Lizzy,
later in the day, when Mercy had been talking like a seer, who could look
into the streets of heaven, and catch the sound of the songs of angels.

Mercy smiled sadly. "I don't want to prevent your crying, dear," she said,
"if it does you any good. But I am very sure that Mr. Dorrance sees us at
this moment, and longs to tell us how glad he is, and that we must be glad
for him." And Mercy's eyes shone as they looked steadfastly across the
room, as if the empty space were, to her vision, peopled with spirits.
This mood of exalted communion did not leave her. Her face seemed
transfigured by it. When she stood by the body of her loved teacher and
friend, she clasped her hands, and, bending over the face, exclaimed,--

"Oh, how good God was!" Then, turning suddenly to Lizzy, she exclaimed,--

"Lizzy,