be buried. Trampling over the long, rank grass, but
avoiding passing directly over any of the thickly-strewn graves, he made
straight for one spot--a little space of unoccupied ground close by,
where Molly, the pretty scullery-maid, lay:

Sacred to the Memory of
MARY GREAVES.
Born 1797. Died 1818.
"We part to meet again."

"I put this stone up over her with my first savings," said he, looking at
it; and then, pulling out his knife, he began to clean out the letters.
"I said then as I would lie by her. And it'll be a comfort to think
you'll see me laid here. I trust no one'll be so crabbed as to take a
fancy to this 'ere spot of ground."

Ellinor grasped eagerly at the only pleasure which her money enabled her
to give to the old man: and promised him that she would take care and buy
the right to that particular piece of ground. This was evidently a
gratification Dixon had frequently yearned after; he kept saying, "I'm
greatly obleeged to ye, Miss Ellinor. I may say I'm truly obleeged." And
when he saw them off by the coach the next day, his last words were, "I
cannot justly say how greatly I'm obleeged to you for that matter of the
churchyard." It was a much more easy affair to give Miss Monro some
additional comforts; she was as cheerful as ever; still working away at
her languages in any spare time, but confessing that she was tired of the
perpetual teaching in which her life had been spent during the last
thirty years. Ellinor was now enabled to set her at liberty from this,
and she accepted the kindness from her former pupil with as much simple
gratitude as that with which a mother receives a favour from a child. "If
Ellinor were but married to Canon Livingstone, I should be happier than I
have ever been since my father died," she used to say to herself in the
solitude of her bed-chamber, for talking aloud had become her wont in the
early years of her isolated life as a governess. "And yet," she went on,
"I don't know what I should do without her; it is lucky for me that
things are not in my hands, for a pretty mess I should make of them, one
way or another. Dear! how old Mrs. Cadogan used to hate that word
'mess,' and correct her granddaughters for using it right before my face,
when I knew I had said it myself only the moment before! Well! those
days are all over now. God be thanked!"

In spite of being glad that "things were not in her hands" Miss Monro
tried to take affairs into