and Margaret was
again at home. Rose was there still, and just as the sun was setting
she took her sister's hand, and led her out into the open air toward
the resting-place of the dead, where a change had been wrought; and
Margaret, leaning over the iron gate, comprehended at once the feeling
which had prompted Mr. Carrollton and Rose to desire her absence for
a time. The humble stone was gone, and in its place there stood a
handsome monument, less imposing and less expensive than that of Mrs.
Miller, it is true, but still chaste and elegant, bearing upon it
simply the names of "Hester Hamilton, and her mother Hagar Warren,"
with the years of their death. The little grave, too, where for many
years Maggie herself had been supposed to sleep, was not beneath the
pine tree now; that mound was leveled down, and another had been made,
just where the grass was growing rank and green beneath the shadow of
the taller stone, and there side by side they lay at last together,
the mother and her infant child.

"It was kind in you to do this," Margaret said, and then, with her
arm round Rose's waist, she spoke of the coming time when the sun of
another hemisphere would be shining down upon her, saying she should
think often of that hour, that spot, and that sister, who answered:
"Every year when the spring rains fall I shall come to see that the
grave has been well kept, for you know that she was my mother, too,"
and she pointed to the name of "Hester," deep cut in the polished
marble.

"Not yours, Rose, but mine," said Maggie. "My mother she was, and as
such I will cherish her memory." Then, with her arm still around her
sister's waist, she walked slowly back to the house.

A little later, and while Arthur Carrollton, with Maggie at his side,
was talking to her of something which made the blushes burn on her
still pale cheeks, Madam Conway herself walked out to witness the
improvements, lingering longest at the little grave, and saying to
herself, "It was very thoughtful in Arthur, very, to do what I
should have done myself ere this had I not been afraid of Margaret's
feelings."

Then, turning to the new monument, she admired its chaste beauty, but
hardly knew whether she was pleased to have it there or not.

"It's very handsome," she said, leaving the yard, and walking backward
to observe the effect. "And it adds much to the looks of the place.
There is no question about that. It is perfectly proper, too, or Mr.
Carrollton