ngford. Perhaps it was owing to my increased age
and greater observation, but I fancied that these simple beings felt the
death of their young mistress more than they had felt that of my mother.

St. Michael's church-yard is beautifully ornamented with flourishing
cedars. These trees had been cultivated with care, and formed an
appropriate ornament for the place. A fine cluster of them shaded the
graves of my family, and a rustic seat had been placed beneath their
branches, by order of my mother, who had been in the habit of passing
hours in meditation at the grave of her husband. Grace and I, and Lucy,
had often repaired to the same place at night, after my mother's death,
and there we used to sit many an hour, in deep silence; or, if utterance
were given to a thought, it was in a respectful whisper. As I now
approached this seat, I had a bitter satisfaction in remembering that
Rupert had never accompanied us in these pious little pilgrimages. Even in
the day of her greatest ascendancy, Grace had been unable to enlist her
admirer in an act so repugnant to his innate character. As for Lucy, her
own family lay on one side of that cluster of cedars, as mine lay on the
other; and often had I seen the dear young creature weeping, as her eyes
were riveted on the graves of relatives she had never known. But _my_
mother had been _her_ mother, and for this friend she felt an attachment
almost as strong as that which was entertained by ourselves. I am not
certain I ought not to say, an attachment _quite_ as strong as our own.

I was apprehensive some visitors might be hovering near the grave of my
sister at that witching hour, and I approached the cedars cautiously,
intending to retire unseen should such prove to be the case. I saw no one,
however, and proceeded directly to the line of graves, placing myself at
the foot of the freshest and most newly made. Hardly was this done, when I
heard the word "Miles!" uttered in a low, half-stifled exclamation. It was
not easy for me to mistake the voice of Lucy; she was seated so near the
trunk of a cedar that her dark dress had been confounded with the shadows
of the tree. I went to the spot, and took a seat at her side.

"I am not surprised to find _you_ here," I said, taking the dear girl's
hand, by a sort of mechanical mode of manifesting affection which had
grown up between us from childhood, rather than from, any sudden
impulse--"_you_ that watched over her so faithfully during the