ugh every stage of his present undertaking. Mrs. Peckover, who came
every morning to see how he was getting on, was amazed at the slowness
of his progress. He was, from the first, morbidly scrupulous in keeping
the board smooth and clean. After he had shaped it, and fitted it to its
upright supports; after he had cut in it (by Mrs. Peckover's advice)
the same inscription which had been placed on the old board--the simple
initials "M. G.," with the year of Mary's death, "1828"--after he had
done these things, he was seized with an unreasonable, obstinate
fancy for decorating the board at the sides. In spite of all that Mrs.
Peckover could say to prevent him, he carved an anchor at one side, and
a tomahawk at the other--these being the objects with which he was most
familiar, and therefore the objects which he chose to represent. But
even when the carving of his extraordinary ornaments had been completed,
he could not be prevailed on to set the new cross-board up in its
proper place. Fondly as artists or authors linger over their last loving
touches to the picture or the book, did Mat now linger, day after day,
over the poor monument to his sister's memory, which his own rough hands
had made. He smoothed it carefully with bits of sand-paper, he rubbed it
industriously with leather, he polished it anxiously with oil, until,
at last, Mrs. Peckover lost all patience; and, trusting in the influence
she had already gained over him, fairly insisted on his bringing his
work to a close. Even while obeying her, he was still true to his first
resolution. He had said that no man's hand should help in the labor he
had now undertaken; and he was as good as his word, for he carried the
cross-board himself to the churchyard.

All this time, he never once looked at that lock of hair which had been
accustomed to take so frequently from his pocket but a few days back.
Perhaps there was nothing in common between the thought of tracing
Arthur Carr, and the thoughts of Mary that came to him while he was at
work on the walnut-wood plank.

But when the cross-board had been set up; when he had cleared away the
mud and brambles about the mound, and had made a smooth little path
round it; when he had looked at his work from all points of view, and
had satisfied himself that he could do nothing more to perfect it, the
active, restless, and violent elements in his nature seemed to awake,
as it were, on a sudden. His fingers began to search again in