en the birds are singing, and lay
sweet flowers upon these graves."

"We shall indeed come, darling," and Dane's arm stole tenderly about
the girl as he spoke. "We shall come next summer to this place which
means so much to us."

The sun of the short winter day was dipping below the tops of the great
trees, and the distant hills were aglow as Jean and Dane left the grove
and walked slowly back to the house. Although sorrowing for the one
they had just laid to rest, yet they knew that it was well. This
common grief drew them nearer than ever to each other, making their
love all the more beautiful and wonderful.

CHAPTER XXXII

AFTER MANY DAYS

Christmas was drawing near and the people of Loyal were looking forward
to the season of cheer and goodwill. Their preparations were meagre,
and they did not expect to celebrate as in the past. But they had
provided what they could for their little ones, and the women had their
cooking all done. The _Polly_, on her last trip, had brought extra
supplies from Portland Point, so there was sufficient food for all.
The various houses were decorated with fragrant evergreens, and before
blazing fires during the long evenings parents told their children of
the happy Christmas seasons before the war.

In one home only there was no cheer, for Colonel Sterling was in no
mood for any gaiety. He paid little heed to the preparations that were
being made in the settlement, and listened in an absent-minded manner
to Old Mammy's chatter. Even the little Indian baby, of which he was
very fond, could not arouse him out of the apathy into which he had
sunk. He would sit for hours gazing dreamily into the fire, and would
only bestir himself when any of the neighbours called for a friendly
chat. But of late such visitors were few, for after the first
greeting, the Colonel always lapsed into silence. He would suddenly
arouse when the callers were ready to depart, and tell them to come
again.

All this was a great worry to Old Mammy. She found the house very
lonely, and more often than ever dropped in upon her neighbours during
the day.

"I'm sure troubled 'bout de Cun'l," she confided to Mrs. Watson one
afternoon. "He jes sets an' sets an' says nuffin'. I know he's
t'inkin' 'bout Missie Jean, but he nebber speaks 'bout her now. His
po' ol' heart is jes broke, an' no wonder."

The tears flowed down Mammy's cheeks, telling plainly of her own grief.
She wiped them away with