en were gone. Amos
had sunk on his knees, and was holding her hand while he watched her
face. By-and-by she opened her eyes, and, drawing him close to her,
whispered slowly,--'My dear--dear--husband--you have been--very--good to
me. You--have--made me--very--happy.'

She spoke no more for many hours. They watched her breathing becoming
more and more difficult, until evening deepened into night, and until
midnight was past. About half-past twelve she seemed to be trying to
speak, and they leaned to catch her words. 'Music--music--didn't you hear
it?'

Amos knelt by the bed and held her hand in his. He did not believe in his
sorrow. It was a bad dream. He did not know when she was gone. But Mr.
Brand, whom Mrs. Hackit had sent for before twelve o'clock, thinking that
Mr. Barton might probably need his help, now came up to him, and
said,--'She feels no more pain now. Come, my dear sir, come with me.'

'She isn't _dead_?' shrieked the poor desolate man, struggling to shake
off Mr. Brand, who had taken him by the arm. But his weary weakened frame
was not equal to resistance, and he was dragged out of the room.

Chapter 9

They laid her in the grave--the sweet mother with her baby in her
arms--while the Christmas snow lay thick upon the graves. It was Mr.
Cleves who buried her. On the first news of Mr. Barton's calamity, he had
ridden over from Tripplegate to beg that he might be made of some use,
and his silent grasp of Amos's hand had penetrated like the painful
thrill of life-recovering warmth to the poor benumbed heart of the
stricken man.

The snow lay thick upon the graves, and the day was cold and dreary; but
there was many a sad eye watching that black procession as it passed from
the vicarage to the church, and from the church to the open grave. There
were men and women standing in that churchyard who had bandied vulgar
jests about their pastor, and who had lightly charged him with sin; but
now, when they saw him following the coffin, pale and haggard, he was
consecrated anew by his great sorrow, and they looked at him with
respectful pity.

All the children were there, for Amos had willed it so, thinking that
some dim memory of that sacred moment might remain even with little
Walter, and link itself with what he would hear of his sweet mother in
after years. He himself led Patty and Dickey; then came Sophy and Fred;
Mr. Brand had begged to carry Chubby, and Nanny followed with Walter.
They made a ci