child holding in her hand a gold ornament set
with garnets that she had just picked up from a heap of rubbish which
appeared to be sweepings from Louisita's abode.

"That is a fibula, Cora, such as I saw in a museum in Norway."

"Look, Anna, look at these," she continued, gathering up several antique
beads of glass mosaic and a few chess men of amber from the same place.
"Tell me what they are?"

"They all came from Norway," replied Miss Vyvyan, explaining their use
to her.

Mrs. Carleton meanwhile knocked on the broken planks which served for a
floor, and as Louisita did not appear she entered the mound, but soon
came out again, and whispered something to Miss Vyvyan who passed in,
leaving Mrs. Carleton with Cora. On first entering, it was difficult to
distinguish the interior of the place, or any of the numerous objects
that it contained, as the only light came in through the shattered door,
and a small hole on one side of the mound, which evidently served as a
chimney and a window also. After a few seconds, when Miss Vyvyan's eyes
became accustomed to the extremely subdued light, she saw that she was
in a place that was four or five hundred feet in circumference and about
twenty-four feet high. Advancing toward the side on which the hole was
broken, she observed Louisita. A gleam of light fell upon her. She was
kneeling in front of a small structure which formed a table. Her hands
were clasped in the attitude of prayer, and her fixed and glassy eyes
seemed to look up in the direction of a small silver crucifix, which
hung on the wall before her. Her features were set and rigid. The rich
brown Spanish tint had left her face. When Miss Vyvyan looked upon her
she knew that she was dead, and, on laying her hand upon her cold brow,
she concluded that death had taken place many hours previously; perhaps
the night before. She summoned Mrs. Carleton, and bidding Cora sit down
where they could see her from the inside of the mound, the ladies
proceeded to lay Louisita to rest in the same tomb that had so long been
her dwelling. They lifted her on to her bed; they folded the poor, tired
hands of the weary woman, whose life had lingered on through those
lonely, loveless years. They took the silver crucifix from the wall and
laid it upon her breast; for although they were not of her creed, they
respected her devotion. They felt thankful that in her lifetime they
had done all they could to lighten her burden. They felt still mo