object,
and to follow the setting sun with a fixed gaze, that said those eyes
would never see it set again. But there was no sadness--no regret--in
the gentle countenance; and the infantine lips still smiled, as they
whispered the evening prayer that he had so often repeated with Edith.
Young as he was, Ludovico had learnt to love his Redeemer, and to feel
that to 'depart, and be with Christ, was far better than to abide on
earth; and the 'valley of the shadow or death,' which the Lord so
mercifully made easy to his flesh, had no terrors for his young spirit.

Could his parents, then--could even his broken-hearted sister--bear to
disturb his angelic calmness by any display of their own grief? No:
they restrained it; and even tried to smile again as they replied to
his touching remarks, and spoke of the happy day when they should all
meet again in heaven, and dwell for ever in the presence of that
gracious Savior, who was new taking him, as they believed, to join his
dear brother Henrich.

As twilight came on, his father bore him back to the house, and laid
him again on his little couch; and ere the glorious sun arose to
lighten the earth once more, his spirit had passed away into that realm
of perfect light where they 'have no need of the sun, neither of the
moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God does lighten it, and the
Lamb is the light thereof.' And many tears were shed for him, when the
sight of the grief of those he loved so dearly could no longer disturb
his peace, or check the willing spirit in its heavenward flight.

The sorrows of the Maitlands--thus renewed and aggravated--excited the
warmest sympathy throughout the colony; for they were universally
respected and beloved, and their calm and pious resignation drew forth
the admiration of the whole community of Puritans, who deemed any
strong expressions of grief to be altogether unsuitable to Christians.
But Rodolph and Helen did not the less feel their chastisement, because
they forbore to express their feelings to any other than to God, and to
their revered friend and minister, Brewster. On Edith, this second
blow fell even more heavily than the first; for, since Henrich's loss,
she had devoted herself to her younger brother, and felt for him almost
a mother's love: and now her pupil, her playfellow--the sunshine of her
life--was taken away from her! Truly, the Lord was preparing her in the
furnace of affliction for the future lot to which He had app