nny saw it, and burst into tears. Lewis led her from
the room, and an hysterical fit was the consequence. Her screams reached
the old man's ear, for he looked troubled; but Cora signed to the
servant to close the door, while she sat down beside him, trying to
soothe him into sleep. He soon fell into a quiet slumber, and she then
went to Fanny's assistance.

Her quiet but efficient help succeeded in calming her, and together the
three watched all night by their father's bed. He looked so pleased as
he opened his eyes and saw them together. Cora bent down and kissed him,
as she read his look, and once more held out her hand to Fanny. He
signed for her to come nearer. She kneeled at his side, and laid her
young, sweet cheek to his, and once more he closed his eyes. Towards
morning he grew weaker, and a few hours after he had gently breathed his
last, Laura, her husband, and Clara arrived.

Their grief was loud and violent, and painful to witness. If any feeling
of remorse visited their hearts, none knew it, for no reproach escaped
their lips. Fanny alone seemed stricken, and turned to Cora for comfort.

Mr. Clavering was buried by the side of his wife. His children followed
him to the grave; but in all that crowd not one mourned him as Cora did.
She loved the poor old man that clung to her so like a child; and as she
looked at Lewis and beheld his manly grief, she grieved anew over their
short separation.

The most becoming mourning was chosen, and the most fashionable
bombazine bonnets ordered. Laura and Clara hated black, and thought it a
dreadful thing to wear such an uncomfortable dress in the summer. But
custom was not to be braved, and they all appeared at church the Sunday
after, looking very proper, having asked Cora into their pew. There was
no longer an excuse for refusing to speak to her, and they had requested
her to appear with them in public once more, thinking, perhaps, that the
world would expect it--the world, with its countless eyes, ears, and
tongues!

Poor Margaret! Sorrow came soon to disturb her newly-found bliss, and
she returned earlier than she had intended, to weep over her father's
grave. Her pale face bore witness to her suffering, and Seymour's
tenderness alone called her from her indulgence of her grief. How she
blessed Cora for her care of her father! How she loved her for her
forgiving spirit!

She saw her now almost daily, for they lived so near; and Cora had this
one cause for thank