nded clearly in his ears as they
passed him.

"Death will be to slumber
In that sweet embrace,
And we shall awaken
To behold His Face."

Only one person followed the little coffin, and that was the nurse, who
had loved Kitty as devotedly as any mother. The door behind Paul was
gently pushed open after the service had begun, and he was vividly
conscious of the presence of the woman he loved the best in the
world--May Webster. She was dressed in black, and sank upon her knees
by Sally's side. The intense sympathy of her expression made her look
more beautiful than ever, giving the touch of softness that her
features sometimes lacked. Throughout the service the rector's brave,
strong voice never faltered, and it rose and fell with the others in
Psalm and hymn. He seemed, for the time being, borne aloft upon the
wings of faith and love; but when, the service ended, Paul made his way
back to the church to fetch his hat, which he had accidently left
behind him, he caught a glimpse of a white-robed figure prostrate
before the altar, and the frame was convulsed with sobs. Nature must
have her way; and not even the rector could at once bring his will into
perfect submission with the will of God. His darling was taken from
his sight, and his heart was aching over the dreary years that might
intervene before he could see her again. There was a lump in Paul's
throat as he noiselessly left the church. May and Sally waited for him.

"It's heart-breaking," said May, putting her hand into his. "I was
bound to come."

"You return to London to-night, I suppose? You will come and have tea
with us on your way, won't you?" said Sally, eagerly.

"I will come to tea. But I am not going back at present; I told mother
I should stay down here for a little while, until all this trouble had
passed away; it cannot be right that we should be doing nothing to
help. I only wish I had come in time to see that little girl alive
again."

Sally had moved away to help to arrange the flowers on the
newly-filled-in grave, and Paul stood a little apart by May's side.

"I'm sorry for every one," said May. "It is almost enough to kill Mr.
Curzon. And I have thought of you too; I was sorry for the loss of
your one friend."

"Yes," said Paul. "I've been sorry for myself; I did not believe any
child's death could affect me so deeply. Life is an unanswerable
riddle from beginning to end."

"Unless the rector is right," s