ughts had nothing more to do with home; she gave herself up to
wretchedness, and it tossed her about as the sea tosses the ship which
has lost its helmsman and its rudder. Thus passed the day of the
funeral, and several days followed amidst the same uniform, heavy
grief. With tearful eyes and melancholy looks her afflicted family
gazed at her. She did not care for what comforted them. What could
they say to change the current of her mournful thoughts?

It seemed as if sleep had fled from her for ever; it alone would be
her best friend, strengthen her frame, and recall peace to her mind.
Her family persuaded her to keep her bed, and she lay there as still
as if buried in sleep. One night her husband had listened to her
breathing, and believing from it that she had at length found repose
and relief, he clasped his hands, prayed for her and for them all,
then sank himself into peaceful slumber. While sleeping soundly he did
not perceive that she rose, dressed herself, and softly left the room
and the house, to go--whither her thoughts wandered by day and by
night--to the grave that hid her child. She passed quietly through the
garden, out to the fields, beyond which the road led outside of the
town to the churchyard. No one saw her, and she saw no one.

It was a fine night; the stars were shining brightly, and the air was
mild, although it was the 1st of September. She entered the
churchyard, and went to the little grave; it looked like one great
bouquet of sweet-scented flowers. She threw herself down, and bowed
her head over the grave, as if she could through the solid earth
behold her little boy, whose smile she remembered so vividly. The
affectionate expression of his eyes, even upon his sick bed, was
never, never to be forgotten. How speaking had not his glance been
when she had bent over him, and taken the little hand he was himself
too weak to raise! As she had sat by his couch, so now she sat by his
grave; but here her tears might flow freely over the sod that covered
him.

"Wouldst thou descend to thy child?" said a voice close by. It sounded
so clear, so deep--its tones went to her heart. She looked up, and
near her stood a man wrapped in a large mourning cloak, with a hood
drawn over the head; but she could see the countenance under this. It
was severe, and yet encouraging, his eyes were bright as those of
youth.

"Descend to my child!" she repeated; and there was the agony of
despair in her voice.

"Dare