I.

CONSECRATION.

As the weeks passed by, bringing no intelligence to New Hope that Paul
was living,--when there was no longer a doubt of his death,--Father
Surplice held a memorial service. It was on Sunday, and all the people
were at church. Appropriate for the occasion were the words which he
read from the New Testament of the widow of Nain,--how, "as Jesus came
nigh to the city, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his
mother, and she was a widow; and when the Lord saw her, he had
compassion on her, and said, 'Weep not!'"

Consoling and comforting were his own words, which sank deep into the
hearts of the stricken people; and though the good man said, "Weep not!"
tears dropped from his own eyes, and fell upon the great Bible which lay
open before him. It was a sad and solemn service. Though the heart of
the mother was yearning for her son, yet she could say, "The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

Mrs. Parker still lived in the little old cottage. The neighbors were
very kind, and she wanted for nothing, for Colonel Dare remembered his
promise. Peaceful was her life. The birds sang cheerful songs; sweet was
the humming of the bees, fragrant the flowers in the garden, and steady
the flowing of the river; and as she listened to the waterfall, she
thought of Paul as standing by the River of Life. How, then, could she
mourn for him? Yet she missed him. Sometimes she listened as if to hear
his footsteps coming up the garden walk. Sometimes her eyes filled with
tears, as her heart went out to the lonely battle-field where she
thought him lying. O, if she could but behold him again,--clasp him in
her arms,--and once more lay her hand upon his brow, and bless him with
a mother's tenderest love!

But he was gone, and for him she could work no more. His comrades were
bearing on the flag, upholding it on bloody fields, fighting as he
fought, suffering as he suffered, needing help and comfort and cheer
from those at home. There was work to be done for them; so through the
days she sat in the old kitchen, knitting and sewing for the soldiers,
wishing that she had half a dozen hands instead of two, that she might
help them more.

There was one who came to aid her every day,--Azalia, who, in the
silence and seclusion of her chamber, had looked out upon the yellow
harvest-fields where the farmers were gathering the first ripe ears of
seed-corn, and had tried to still t