now they were burying his son!

He had not seen the widow since, for she had left the town at once; but
he recollected her distinctly, a tall, dark woman with bright brown
eyes, much younger than her husband, and only married to him eighteen
months before he died. He remembered her slim figure standing by the
grave, at that long-past funeral, and the look on her face which had
puzzled him so terribly--a look of--a most peculiar look!

He thought of it even now, walking along the narrow path towards his old
friend's grave--the handsomest in the cemetery, commanding from the
topmost point the whitened slope and river that lay beyond. He came to
its little private garden. Spring flowers were blossoming; the railings
had been freshly painted; and by the door of the grave wreaths awaited
the new arrival. All was in order.

The old Director opened the mausoleum with his key. Below, seen through
a thick glass floor, lay the shining coffin of the father; beneath, on
the lower tier, would rest the coffin of the son.

A gentle voice, close behind him, said:

"Can you tell me, sir, what they are doing to my old doctor's grave?"

The old Director turned, and saw before him a lady well past middle age.
He did not know her face, but it was pleasant, with faded rose-leaf
cheeks, and silvered hair under a shady hat.

"Madam, there is a funeral here this afternoon."

"Ah! Can it be his wife?"

"Madam, his son; a young man of only twenty."

"His son! At what time did you say?"

"At two o'clock."

"Thank you; you are very kind."

With uplifted hat, he watched her walk away. It worried him to see a
face he did not know.

All went off beautifully; but, dining that same evening with his friend,
a certain doctor, the old Director asked:

"Did you see a lady with grey hair hovering about this afternoon?"

The doctor, a tall man, with a beard still yellow, drew his guest's
chair nearer to the fire.

"I did."

"Did you remark her face? A very odd expression--a sort of--what shall I
call it?--Very odd indeed! Who is she? I saw her at the grave this
morning."

The doctor shook his head.

"Not so very odd, I think."

"Come! What do you mean by that?"

The doctor hesitated. Then, taking the decanter, he filled his old
friend's glass, and answered:

"Well, sir, you were Godwin's greatest chum--I will tell you, if you
like, the story of his death. You were away at the time, if you
remember."

"It is safe with me," said