n rites, the house
was filled with friends and acquaintances; and the members of the
profession to which Dr. Grey belonged came to attend the funeral, and
officiate as pall-bearers.

Seated beside Dr. Grey, on one of the sofas, Salome's dry eyes noted
all that passed while the services were performed; and, when the
hearse moved down the avenue, she took his offered arm, and was placed
in the same carriage.

It was a long, dreary drive to the distant cemetery, and she was
relieved to some extent when they found themselves at the family
vault. Miss Jane had always desired to be buried under the slab that
covered her brother, and had directed a space left for that purpose.
Now the marble was removed, and the coffins of Jane and Enoch Grey
rested side by side. The voice of the minister ceased, and only little
Stanley's sobs broke that mournful silence which always ensues while
spade or trowel does its sad work. Then the sculptured slab was
replaced, and brother and sister were left to that blessed repose
which is granted only to the faithful when "He giveth His beloved
sleep."

"Write, 'Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord,
Because they rest,' ... because their toil is o'er.
The voice of weeping shall be heard no more
In the Eternal City. Neither dying
Nor sickness, pain nor sorrow, neither crying,
For God shall wipe away all tears. Rest,--rest."

In the death of his sister, Dr. Grey mourned the loss of the only
mother he had ever known, for his earliest recollections were of Miss
Jane's tender care and love, and his affection was rather that of a
devoted son than brother; consequently, the blow was doubly painful:
but he bore it with a silent fortitude, a grave and truly Christian
resignation, that left an indelible impression upon the minds of Miss
Dexter and Muriel, and taught them the value of a faith that could
bring repose and trust in the midst of a trial so severe.

His continued vigils at "Solitude," and the profound grief that could
not find vent in tears or words, had printed characters on his pale,
wearied face, that should have commanded the sympathy of all who
shared his friendship; but the sight of his worn features and the
sound of his slow step only embittered the heart of the orphan, who
saw in these evidences of fatigue and anxiety new manifestations of
affection for the patient who was not yet entirely beyond danger.

Four days after the funeral, Dr. Grey came in to breakfast la