he church where he had long officiated as
sexton. But long before the time-worn building gave place to a modern
structure the hallowed remains of Uncle True had found a quieter
resting-place--even a beautiful piece of undulating woodland in the
neighbourhood of Mr. Graham's country residence, which had been
consecrated as a rural cemetery; and in the loveliest nook of this
beautiful spot the ashes of the good old lamplighter found their final
repose.

This lot of land, which had been purchased by Willie's liberality,
selected by Gertrude, and by her made fragrant with summer rose and
winter ivy, now enclosed also the forms of Mr. Cooper and Mrs. Sullivan;
and over these three graves Gertrude had planted many a flower and
watered it with her tears. Especially did she view it as a sacred duty
and privilege to mark the anniversary of the death of each by a tribute
of fresh garlands; and, with this pious purpose in view, she left Mr.
Graham's house one beautiful afternoon about a week after the events
narrated in the previous chapter.

She carried on her arm a basket, containing her offering of flowers;
and, as she had a long walk before her, started at a rapid pace. Let us
follow her, and briefly pursue the train of thought which accompanied
her on her way. She had left her father with Emily. She would not ask
him to join her in her walk, though he had once expressed a desire to
visit the grave of Uncle True, for he and Emily were talking together so
contentedly, it would have been a pity to disturb them; and Gertrude's
reflections were engrossed by the thought of their tranquil happiness.
She thought of herself, too, as associated with them both; of the deep
and long-tried love of Emily, and of the fond outpourings of affection
daily and hourly lavished upon her by her newly-found parent, and felt
that she could scarcely repay their kindness by the devotion of a
lifetime.

She tried to banish the remembrance of Willie's faithlessness and
desertion. But the painful recollection presented itself continually,
notwithstanding her utmost efforts to repress it; and at last, ceasing
the struggle, she gave herself up for the time to a deep and saddening
reverie. She had received two visits from Willie since the first; but
the second meeting had been in its character very similar, and on the
succeeding occasion the constraint had increased instead of diminishing.
Several times Willie had made an effort to speak and act with the