reflectors.
"Will anybody see it, mamma?" said the child. "Will papa see it?" And
just then the witching devil who manages the fibres of memory, drew from
the little crypt in Laura's brain, where they had been stored unnoticed
years upon years, four lines of Leigh Hunt's, and the child saw that she
was Hero:--

"Then at the flame a torch of fire she lit,
And, o'er her head anxiously holding it,
Ascended to the roof, and, leaning there,
Lifted its light into the darksome air."

If only the devil would have been satisfied with this. But of course she
could not remember that, without remembering Schiller:--

"In the gale her torch is blasted,
Beacon of the hoped-for strand:
Horror broods above the waters,
Horror broods above the land."

And she said aloud to the boy, "Our torch shall not go out, Tommy,--come
down, come down, darling, with mamma." But all through the day horrid
lines from the same poem came back to her. Why did she ever learn it!
Why, but because dear Tom gave her the book himself; and this was his
own version, as he sent it to her from the camp in the valley,--

"Yes, 'tis he! although he perished,
Still his sacred troth he cherished."

"Why did Tom write it for me?"

"And they trickle, lightly playing
O'er a corpse upon the sand."

"What a fool I am! Come, Tommy. Come, Matty, my darling. Mamma will tell
you a story. Once there was a little boy, and he had two kittens. And he
named one Buff and one Muff"-- But this could not last for ever. Sundown
came. And then Laura and Tommy climbed their own tower,--and she lighted
her own lantern, as she called it. Sickly and sad through the storm, she
could see the sister lantern burning bravely. And that was all she could
see in the sullen whiteness. "Now, Tommy, my darling, we will come and
have some supper." "And while the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered
and slept." "Yes, 'tis he; although he perished, still his sacred troth
he cherished." "Come, Tommy,--come Tommy,--come, Tommy, let me tell you
a story."

But the children had their supper,--asking terrible questions about
papa,--questions which who should answer? But she could busy herself
about giving them their oatmeal, and treating them to ginger-snaps,
because it was Christmas Eve. Nay, she kept her courage, when Tommy
asked if Santa Claus would come in the boat with papa. She fairly
loitered over the undressing them. Little witches, how