send Seth," said Gret; "and while he is gone we must get your
mother ready for the grave."

Gret went out, and soon came back with the news that Seth was on his way
to Peter McAnay's cabin.

Lizzi was more composed, and assisted Gret in preparing the body for
burial.

It was near daybreak when Peter reached his home. Gret met him at the
door. Levi, Matthi, and Cassi rose to receive him. They had been sitting
in the room where their mother died. Blind Benner lay asleep on a bench,
and Hunch was crouching in a corner. Lizzi was with the dead. She heard
her father's voice in response to the greeting of her brothers, but did
not move from her knees.

Her father's step on the stairs told of his approach. She bowed her head
lower and clasped her hands. Her posture was one of utter dejection. Her
father stood over her. She did not move. He spoke to her. She did not
reply.

He glanced at the bed, and saw how tastefully she had dressed her mother
for the grave. He could see through the mist in his eyes that the dress
was not stiff in its folds, but gracefully draped the rigid form. He was
touched by the natural arrangement of the snow-white hair.

"Yer hev drest yer mother pretty, Lizzi; she's sleepin' nateral."

This broke Lizzi down completely, and she fell forward, with her face
between her father's boots and her arms outstretched.

"Oh, father, forgive me for bein' so bad! I killed mother. I killed her
by not tellin'."

When Lizzi began to speak, Levi closed the stair door. The noise he
made, though not loud, was sufficient to wake Blind Benner. By Levi's
direction, Hunch led the blind man to his home.

Lizzi lay on the floor moaning and calling herself "a bad, bad woman."

Her father's heart almost burst. Could it be after all that she was
dishonest? Could it be that her mother had read her aright? Could it be
that she had cruelly encouraged his faith in her, knowing the certainty
of his discovery of the truth at last? No, no; it could not be. In his
desperation he became calm, with the forced self-control that makes many
a man firm on the gallows. His tones had not a ring of hope as he said:

"Don't grovel there, Lizzi. Stand up. There's yer old dead mother, and
here's yer old dyin' father. Git up and face her and me, and tell the
truth, and it all too, mind."

His voice grew sharp and commanding; never had he spoken so sternly to
her. She slowly lifted herself and looked first at the dead, then at her
fat