once, when Lucy went into it for something, he started us if
to keep her back. Then remembering that he must never be supposed to
know the secret of that room, he sank again into his chair in the
corner, where he staid until the people began to assemble, when he went
with his mother into the adjoining room, where the coffin was and where
he sat immovable as a stone through the service, which, was not very
long. The hymn, which had been selected by Hannah, was the one
commencing with, "Asleep in Jesus, that blest sleep, from which none
ever wake to weep," and as the mournful music filled the rooms, and the
words came distinctly to Grey's ears, he started as if struck a blow,
while to himself he said:

"_Is_ he asleep in Jesus? If I only knew! Can no one tell me? Poor
grandpa!"

Then he was quiet again, and listened intently to what Mr. Sanford was
saying of the deceased. Contrary to his usual custom, the rector spoke
of the dead man, who had gone down to the grave like a sheaf of grain
fully ripe and meet for the kingdom of Heaven.

"There can be no mistake," he said, "I was with him a few hours before
he died. I heard his words of contrition for sins committed and his
assurance that all was peace and joy and brightness beyond the tomb. His
sins, of which he repented as few ever have, were all washed away in
Jesus' blood, and while to-day we stand around his grave, he is safe
with the Savior he loved and trusted to the end."

What else he said, Grey did not know, for the sudden reaction in his
feelings. Mr. Sanford was with his grandfather at the last. He had heard
the dreadful words, "I killed a man!" and yet he declared the sinner
saved. He must know, he who had stood by so many death-beds.

"Yes, he is asleep in Jesus," Grey whispered, while over him there stole
a feeling of deep joy, mingled with remorse that he had ever doubted the
goodness of his grandfather, who had prayed for and blessed him on the
Thanksgiving Day which seemed so long ago.

Grey could look upon him now, and when his Aunt Hannah and his father
rose to take their leave of the corpse, he went with them, lingering by
the coffin after they had returned to their seats, and bending over the
white, still face, where death had left a smile, so peaceful, so
inexpressibly sweet that it touched the boy keenly, and stooping down he
kissed the stiffened lips, and murmured, through his tears:

"Dear grandpa, forgive me for doubting you, I know you were